A Guy, A Girl, And A Haunted Place
by Jase Andrews and Aquarian Wolf
Summary: When an accidental spell causes her best buddy Paul to become possessed, will teenager Leila Toombs take the hint that some supernatural spooks need her help? Antics ensue as Leila and her new friend go on an adventure through the Haunted Mansion.
1. The Boring Beginning

**A Guy, A Girl, And A Haunted Place**

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_Before we begin..._

_A note from the wonderful authors._

"This has been an arduous project in works since October of 2005. Now, almost a year later, we have finally finished it, by occasionally getting off our lazy butts long enough to write coherent chapters (there was a first draft with something about a dragon and outer space in there...yeah...not so great). We hope you like this work even more than we liked writing it, because at times we really didn't like writing it all that much.

Kidding, kidding...but seriously, folks. Enjoy. Or you'll be next."

_'Til Death,  
Jase Andrews & Aquarian Wolf_

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_

The New England air was cold and dry, just like the many leafless trees. A few remaining orange and brown leaves clung valiantly as they were tugged and pulled by the October wind. The late afternoon sky was dingy white, completely covered with clouds, making the whole area seem gray.

The day after tomorrow would be Halloween, a night of mischief and costumes, of bobbing for apples and parties, candy, and trick-or-treating. Liberty Square was a town where the citizens did these things every year, and with as much passion as most towns celebrate Christmas. Homes would be decorated with orange lights and have jack-o-lanterns sitting, grinning or snarling, on every porch. Garages went through an amazing transformation, morphing from junk and car holders into walk-through crypts with dummy mummies and springing spirits. Already some yards sported cardboard headstones with silly epitaphs. All but one of the houses promised a fun-spirited "BOO!" and a handful of Smarties and Tootsie Rolls.

There was always that one house, or rather mansion, that was never decorated for Halloween. Hand-made headstones would be redundant. They would pale in comparison to the actual mausoleums and gravestones that dotted the sides of the front yard and covered the ground behind the manor. It was a towering brick beast, two stories tall, that crouched tauntingly on a hill overlooking the Hudson River. A once cheerie, long dead, brown wreath hung on the coffin-shaped front door. Attached to the right side of the Dutch-Gothic monster was a domed conservatory with a spiderweb like crack in the glass.  
No one trick-or-treated there, and not just because it was more than a mile away from the major neighborhoods, but because everyone knew it was haunted. No one had any proof of course. There were no photographs or video recordings of ghosts, but some brave souls had gone in. Of course, they had quickly run back out, screaming about spooky voices and banging doors.

Leila Toombs had always avoided this house. The sixteen year old wasn't afraid of the dilapidated structure; rather, she viewed it with awe and respect. Whoever had built this mansion had a knack for desgin.

The reason Leila never went near the house was because she had always gotten a chill whenever she approached. Leila didn't know how to explain it...she just knew that this house was bad news. And every time that she tried to enter the front gate, goosebumps appeared on her arms and the hairs on her neck stood up.

Once again, she stood in front of that wrought iron gate, staring at the manor. The wind whipped her long, blond hair over her face, but she didn't even flinch. She could have sworn she had seen a light on in one of the rooms...

"BOO!"

She shrieked, jumping nearly a foot into the air. "Paul!" she snapped, turning around to face her best friend. He grinned at her, showing his braces, which had been done in orange and black for the holiday.

"Couldn't resist, mate," he said, doing a poor imitation of Jack Sparrow. He wiped his messy mud-brown bangs out of his eyes and looked up the the mansion, squinting. "Why are you so obsessed with this place?"

She huffed and thrust her hands into the pocket of her Nightmare Before Christmas hoodie. "I don't know. I just...got this weird feeling about that mansion." She blinked. "What are you doing here anyway?"

He took off his black framed, thick rectangular glasses and wiped them on his shirt. "Tried callin' you, but you didn't pick up. Figured you were here, so I drove over."

"You, Paul Yale, actually driving over to check on a friend?" She smirked. "I'm...I'm just speechles!" Putting a hand over her heart, she feigned shock. "You were so concered for me that you pulled yourself away from the X-Box? I'm flattered."

He rolled his eyes. "Well, I think as my best friend you get to be at least one notch above Summoner for one day out of every other week. Only one day though."

Leila couldn't help but smile. Paul really was her only friend. Everyone else seemed to shy away from her. Not unlike how she shyed away from that house...

Paul, smiling at his friend, said, "Come on, I'll give you a ride back home."

"Do I get to play with the stereo?"

"No," he answered flatly. "Until you're driving me around in your own car, you will suffer through my Disney tunes."

"Okay," Leila agreed grudgingly. "But not 'It's a Small World'. You know that ride terrifies me."

Paul laughed and began driving towards home.

* * *

Up in a window of the old mansion, tiny flames flickered. A candleabra floated in front of the dirty class, its invisable holder watching the teens drive away. With a deep sigh, the candles turned away and began to bob down a long, dark hallway. "I hate Halloween," a low voice drawled. 

The doorhandles the invisable entity passed rattled and shook violently and the doorknockers slammed against the ancient doors. "Oh, grow up!" the voice snapped. "Can't do anything in the least bit productive, can you? I swear!" Her only response was moans. The ghost sighed. "This place is so droll... nothing interesting ever happens around here."

Two men suddenly jumped out of the wall in front of her, shouting obsenities and trading punches. At once, they each pulled out a revolver and shot each other. Then they began screaming about how one had shot the other first. The still invisible spirit sighed. When the duelers didn't cease their fighting, she loudly cleared her throat.

They stopped, fists millimeters away from each other's noses. The first, a tall, thin man with a sharp black goatee in a long black cloak and top hat, who was named Huet, smiled at her and said sweetly, "My apologies, Miss Prudence."

The second, a broad shouldered man of equal height with a beard and thick sideburns, wearing a derby and a brown suit who went by the name of Sewell, nodded. "We're really sorry 'bout that Miss Prudence."

She groaned and muttered, "Thanks," as she walked past.

Huet and Sewell tipped their hats. "Good afternoon," chirped Sewell.

"It's evening, you twit!" snapped Huet.

"Them's fightin' words!" snarled Sewell. And the men were back to shooting, and swearing, and swinging.

"Yep," sighed Prudence. "Same old, same old. Nothing ever changes around here."

The candles took a right turn down another, shorter hallway, and kept bobbing along until they came to a stop in front of a large oak door with a bronze, dragon shaped handle. Not caring much for anoyone's privacy, Prudence turned the handle and stepped into the room.

It was a study of sorts, with a great mahogony desk near the back wall. A brick-red leather chair sat behind it. A small bookcase crammed with what appeared to be books about law was against the far left wall. Nearly a dozen small portraits, housed in oval frames, adorned the walls. Most of these black and white and gray photographs were too faded to make out. Their frames were coated in a thick layer of dust. In front of the right wall was a big aquarium, filled with alge laden dirty green water. Some bubbles floated out of a once pink rock castle.

Pacing from the aquarium to the bookshelf was a man. A dead man to be precise. Although he was in his late thirties, (or rather, had been when he died), he could easily pass for a few years younger. An almost solid looking ghost, he had a slender build and a thin face, with a somewhat long, downward pointing bridge to his thin nose. His neatly combed, dark brown hair came complete with sideburns. Adding an almost cheerful contrast to his storm gray tuxedo was a blue bowtie, which was just a shade lighter than his azure eyes.

One hand behind his back, the other in a thoughtful fist that opened and closed and moved with his words as if dancing to his deep, velvety voice, he walked with his back straight and head up, the very posture of a confident man secure in his self worth.

Sitting gleefully at the desk was another ghost, quill in hand, seemingly writing as the other spoke. This spook was a short, squat dwarf, in a tattered long shirt. The tip of his tongue could barely be seen sticking out of the corner of his mouth as he focused on his penmanship, brow furrowed in concentration. A mop of messy hair sat atop his head. A thick, untamed beard grew down nearly to his belly. If one were to look at the floor, one would see that a ball and shackle was attached to his right ankle. Unlike the other spirit, this one was much more content in looking more "ethereal". There was hardly any color to him, save for a greenish-blue glow.

"My preteen years," the pacing man proclaimed in his rich voice, "were incredibly awkward. I had just discovered that my mother, may she rest in peace and never utter one word to me again, had just murdered my father. It was a closed casket service, due to the ax lodged into his cranium." He sniffed tearfully. "I was sent to a boarding school in Switzerland where--"

Unable to bear any more, Prudence interjected. "Master Gracey, sir, I hate to interrupt your retelling of your captivating, if traumatic, life story, but that girl was here again."

He stopped, a look of surprise on his face. Whether it was because he hadn't known she was there or because someone actually had the audacity to interrupt him, she had no clue. "Take five Gus," he said to the man at the desk. "Did you get everything down?"

The bearded midget proudly held up his parchment, a crazy grin on his face. "I drew a kitty!"

Master Gracey stared at the sloppily drawn creature, his eyes trailing a cascading line of wet, black ink. "Of course you did," he muttered flatly.

Gus hopped down from the chair and scampered out of the room, clutching his drawing.

Master Gracey sighed. "I guess I'll have to find SOMEbody else to dictate my memoires to..." He cast glances at Prudence. If he was waiting for a volunteer, he didn't get one. "So," he began as he walked over to the fish tank, "what seems to be the problem?" He picked up a bottle of fish food and tapped some sprinkles into the nasty water, mumbling embarrassing things like, "Who's a good fishy?" in a voice reserved only for babies and animals.

"It's that girl, sir," Prudence. "She was hanging around the gates again."

"What's wrong with that?" asked Gracey, watching as bits of Fish Treatz seemed to disappear into invisible jaws. "Have you tried inviting her in, giving a curious mortal the grand tour, hmm?"

"Well," Prudence faltered, loathing the truth. "She...she creeps me out, sir. She's so pale, and she always wears black, which makes it worse. Her eyes...one's gray, like a tombstone, and the other is this intense, bright green."

The mansion's master turned to face her. He bit his bottom lip, trying to remain serious. After a few quiet seconds, he couldn't hold it in any longer and he burst out laughing. "Never in all my years have I seen a ghost afraid of a mortal! And some kid at that!" He found it so hilarious that he was pounding on the top of the fish tank. "That's priceless!"

"And...And..." She had to yell over his laughter. "And I've got this really anxious feeling. Like something bad's going to happen. Stop laughing!"

"Fine, fine," he agreed, wiping a tear from his eye. "All right, Prudence, I believe you."

"Thank you," she glowered, not in the least bit grateful.

"I assure you nothing is going to happen. We're dead! Nothing can hurt us! Besides, she's probably just one of thse goth teenagers that keep drooling over the place. She'll go away soon if she can't work up the nerve to come in." He chuckled. "A ghost, afraid of a girl."

Scowling, although no one could see, Prudence left to return to her patrol duties.


	2. Atticus Thorn

Meanwhile, on another side of the house, activity just as odd as the happenings in the study was taking place.

In a small dark room with no windows, a strange glowing crystal ball sat upon an old table with a red velvet cloth thrown over it. A large cushy chair sat at the table, for someone to sit in while predicting the future.

But the fortune teller was not in the chair; she was in the crystal ball.

Madame Leota was her name, and magic and the future was her game. She had become trapped in the crystal ball many years ago, when the rest of the residents in this mansion were all of a sudden shed of their 'corruptible, mortal states.' That's what he had called it anyways.

Mortality was a funny thing to Leota. She, unlike the rest of the ghosts, was still corporeal, but because she was missing most of her body, the soothsayer was basically like the dead. Leota figured that she _was _dead, but because of her being trapped, plus her magical abilities, she still retained her beauty and human characteristics.

Madame Leota had a lot of time to think.

And when she wasn't thinking, she was practicing what little magic she had left. Conjuring temporary spirits, opening portals to the land of the dead, and practicing small magical abilities that she was ashamed to call her own.

_Magician tricks_, she had always thought about her diminished capabilities, _anyone live or dead with half a brain could perform them. _

Anyways…

October nights were always Leota's favorite. It was near Halloween – the strongest magical day of the year – which meant that her powers were slowly increasing for a short time. After psychically skimming her large spellbook on her table, she found one that she had never tried before. The yellowed pages of the giant book had gold lettering at the top, which read: "_Invocatio Exanimus_" – "Calling the Dead."

Madame Leota raised an eyebrow.

"This could be interesting," she mused, "It's been so lifeless around here…some new blood could liven the place up." Leota chuckled at her little pun, and recited the spell.

_"Horn toads and lizards, fiddle and strum! Please answer the roll by beating a drum! _

_Rap on a table it's time to respond, send us a message from somewhere beyond! _

_Goblins and ghoulies, old friends and new! Blow on a horn so we'll know that it's you! _

_Serpents and spiders, tail of a rat! Call in the spirits, wherever they're at! _

_Creepies and crawlies, toads in a pond! Let there be music from regions beyond! _

_Wizards and witches, wherever you dwell! Give us a hint by ringing a bell!" _

A stream of light appeared in midair in front of Leota's table. It seemed to open up like it was being unzipped, and it revealed a dark purple portal, swirling violently; a gateway to the underworld and the beyond.

At once whispy wraiths started to fly out of the portal, screeching happily at finally being freed. Leota watched the ghoulish beings with pleasure – George would not approve of her summoning like this, but the chance to use this kind of magic only came once a year.

But Leota failed to notice the dark shadow that slipped out of the portal and immediately slunk to the ground; she was too busy watching the wraiths screech and circle about. The shadow moved along the floor to a safe distance from the table and portal, and slowly started to rise up and become three dimensional. After a few minutes, it formed the outline of a sinister looking figure in a cloak, still concealed in the shadow.

He took a step into the eerie light, and Leota finally noticed him.

She gasped in shock.

The tall man was wearing a purple cloak, held by a ruby clasp. His gnarly white hands clenched into fists as a smile of malice appeared on his thin lips. The man's face was old, wrinkled and withered, but he had a fire in his moonlight silver eyes that made him seem menacing, even to Leota.

"You," She whispered, her mouth agape.

"Yes," the man said in a gravelly tone, "It's been a while."

Leota's brow furled. She couldn't let him see that she was surprised, and had to seem like she wasn't afraid.

"Atticus Thorn…how did you get out of the underworld? I thought I had some of my companions keeping a close eye on you," Leota said waspishly. Atticus chuckled.

"I have you to thank for my escape, my dear," he said, his eyes narrowing on the gypsy, "Once you opened that portal, all I had to do was slip out."

Madame Leota's look of anger changed to one of horror. She had accidentally released her arch nemesis…the man who had trapped her and everyone else in the house…her ex-boyfriend.

"Glad to see you looking so green," Atticus said sarcastically. Leota glared at him.

"You scum. Do you not have any remorse for what you did to me? And to your daughter?"

Atticus turned away sharply.

"I have no daughter. That girl is a sad excuse of existance, and she is certainly no child of mine," he said with no remorse in his voice. Leota bit her lip angrily.

"You abandoned us! I loved you, and she loved you too! Didn't what we have mean anything to you? Or were you too obsessed with power, with finding the secret to immortality that you just used us?"

Atticus turned back to her, and from the look on his face, she knew the answer. She fought back tears as her former love spoke.

"I have found immortality – I've surpassed both realms of life and death," Atticus said coldly.

"Yeah, and you've become a freak! Look at yourself!"

"Shut up! You have no idea what I've sacrificed to gain this power!"

"Oh, I have an idea," Leota muttered, not taking her eyes off Atticus.

"And now…I've finally returned. All because of you."

"What are you going to do?" Leota asked, her voice unwavering. She knew that she couldn't return Atticus back to the depths of hell with her diminished powers.

"What I did so many years ago…take over the mansion."

"I'll stop you. I've done it before, and I can do it again," Leota said simply.

"Oh, I don't think so," Atticus said, "Even though you are no longer just a foolish mortal, you cannot compare to my superior powers."

He lifted one hand into the air like a conductor in a band. Leota was suddenly lifted from her table, the crystal ball enveloped in a smoky purple glow. Atticus lowered Madame Leota to the floor, and then kicked the crystal ball under the table.

The roll rattled Leota, and she desperately tried to get her bearings in the darkness, but was still confused and dazed. She heard Atticus' footsteps, and then the door slam as he left.

"George isn't gonna be happy about this," Leota muttered. She sighed, trying to calm herself down after her erroneous spellcasting, and tried to figure out what to do.

"None of the ghosts can defeat Atticus…he can control the dead." She thought hard, and suddenly her eyes lit up with an idea.

"But a **mortal**…now one of those could help." The soothsayer closed her eyes, concentrating hard. And she sent out subliminal waves of psychic energy, calling out to whoever could hear.

_Help us…we're all in danger…come to the mansion… _


	3. Messages From Beyond

_"…HELP US!"_

Leila woke up with a start, heart pounding, cold sweat dripping down her forehead, plastering her hair to her face. She turned and looked at her digital clock. 5:55. She would have to wake up for school in five minutes. There was no point in trying to go back to sleep. Sighing, she flopped back on the pillow and stared at her ceiling.

"Lot of help you are," she said to her dreamcatcher. "I had nightmares all night. You aren't doing your job."

"Leila!" her mother called."Time to get up!"

Groaning, the blond tossed aside her covers and slid out of bed. She put on her robe and then groggily walked into the bathroom. As she clicked on the light, she winced, shutting her eyes tightly for a few seconds before opening them again. Vision still blurry, she reached for her toothbrush and applied a liberal amount of paste. After spiting and rinsing she looked up at the mirror.

And screamed.

It wasn't her face reflected in the glass. It was that of a woman--a green woman, with black hair that was every so slightly tinted green as well. Her large, dark eyes stared at Leila imploringly as ruby red lips silently pleaded, "Help us!"

Leila screamed and ran out of the bathroom. She recognized that face! She kept seeing it in her dreams, as well as the mansion. The woman kept begging her to come to the old house.

Well, thought Leila as she dressed, I'm not going to do it! It gives me the creeps! Whatever's in there is probably wanting me to go just so they can eat me or sacrifice me or... She didn't want to think of anything else evil monsters with psychic powers would do to her.

"Are you okay sweetie?" her mother asked as she sat down at the kitchen counter. "You look like you didn't sleep a wink all night." Mrs. Toombs, unlike her daughter, was a brunette with gray eyes and a healthier complexion. Most of her features, Leila knew, came from her father. He too had been pale with light blond hair and had bright green eyes. (The eyes were what she shared from both of them). She had loved her father dearly back when he was alive. The two were not as close as she would have liked to have been because his job made him leave town a lot. He had worked in some business--she had never been sure what it was exactly--and he had to leave for conferences in cities all over the U. S. Sometimes he would be gone for a week or two, come back for three days, and get on a plane and be gone for another two weeks.

Four years ago, when Leila was only twelve, he had left for a flight to Las Vegas that had crashed after an engine burst into flames. She remembered how nervous he had been that morning before leaving for the airport. He kept muttering about how he felt sick and thought it best if he waited a few days for the nausea to die down. All the night before, he had paced anxiously, mumbling worriedly to himself. When it came time to leave, he had adjusted his tie as he had always done, kissed his wife, and gave Leila a big hug, and then got into his waiting cab.

Leila had never told anyone, but she had a nightmare the night before he left. In it, the plane went down in a haze of smoke and flames. Because of that, she always felt secretly guilty. Maybe if she had told her father about her dream he wouldn't have gotten on the plane. He would still be alive.

The rattling of a glass plate jolted her out of her thoughts as her breakfast was placed in front of her. It was a pancake, with chocolate chips on it to make it look like a carved jack-o-lantern. Orange syrup drenched it, but did little to give it a more pumpkin color.

"Are you and Paul going trick-or-treating tomorrow?" asked Mrs. Toombs in an attempt to engage her daughter in a morning conversation.

Leila shook her head. "We're a little old for that, don't you think?"

"Hey, as long as you're in costume, and you say trick-or-treat, and 'thank you', you should get candy."

Leila wished all of the adults in the neighborhood had the same outlook as her mother. By the time she was fourteen, she and Paul had been getting glares and, "You're too old to be doing this" lectures from the neighborhood adults. Of course, the stupid punks who just went around in roller skates with pillow cases got tons of candy. That was because they threatened to egg people's houses though.

After she had finished her pancake, she heard Paul knocking on the door. Sipping her orange juice, she answered the door. He was like clockwork. He always arrived at exactly six-fifty every morning, rain or shine. As usual, his hair was a bit messy, as if he had forgotten to comb it, and his jeans had a wrinkled "picked up off the floor" quality. His X-Men shirt was a bit faded after years of wear and wash.

"Ready to go?" he asked with his quirky, orange and black grin.

"Just about." She grabbed her car keys and waved good bye to her mother before they departed for school.

"No, no, no," Madame Leota hissed to herself. This was not going well at all! The girl was completely ignoring her! Worse, Atticus was beginning his conquest of the mansion.

The warlock sauntered down the hallway, smirking as the eyes in the hanging portaits watched him with fear. "Oh George!" he called out in a sing-song voice. "Where are you, Georgie?" Spying the floating candleabra, he chuckled wickedly. "Hello Prudence!" he gushed with fake sweetness. "You're looking lovely this morning." With a flick of his wrist, he made the candles fly towards him. He grabbed the invisable spirit around where her throat should be. "Tell me, dear, where's the beloved master of the manor?"

She spit on him. "Bite me, Thorn!"

He squeezed her throat a little tighter. "Tell me where Master Gracey is or I'll--" He stopped and looked up as the study door creaked open. Chortling, he dropped the dead woman and glided over to the room just as Master Gracey stepped out. "Hello George!"

George dropped the tall stack of papers--his newly written memoires--he had been carrying. The tiny bit of color draining from his cheeks, he gasped. "You- you can't be...It's impossible!"

"Oh," Atticus laughed, "it's possible."

Hate blazing in his blue eyes, George snarled, "Atticus, what are you doing here?"

"I've come back to claim what is mine, you arrogant, selfish little weasel."

George pulled back his fist as if to punch the villian, but with a simple snape of his bony fingers, Thorn made him punch himself. "Stop hitting youself!" he chided childishly as Gracey repeatedly smacked his own face. "You are so pathetic, Gracey." A glowing purple noose suddenly appeared in his gnarled hands and he threw it over George's head. Pulling on the rope, he made it tighen around the ghost's neck and dragged him down the hallway on his back.

George clawed at the noose as he slid across the carpet. "You'll never get away with this," he rasped.

"Oh, I think I already have. You know," Thorn added thoughtfully, "I don't think the others have much of a clue I'm here." In a taunting voice, he called out, "Grim, grinnging ghosts! Come out to socialize!"

They began emerging from rooms, appearing out of thin air, and walking out of walls, to see what the commotion was. They gasped in shock when they saw the evil wizard parading through the mansion and immedietly they went back into hiding and ran to tell others.

His cackle almost drowned out the hushed whispers and cries of, "No!" "It can't be!" "Where did he come from?" "RUN!" With George towed behind him like a hated dog on a leash, Atticus strolled onto the balcony over looking the ballroom. "Ladies and gentlemen," he announced, making all action cease. A ghostly organist let out one, long sour note from the keys in shock. "Boys and ghouls," he said a bit softer as the room quieted down, "I bring to you your beloved Master Gracey!" He pushed him over the railing, dangling him above the floor for everyone to see.

George's rage was overpowered by his immense embarrassment as the ghosts, the dead denziens he was supposed to protect, stared up in fear. He looked away from them, tears burning in his eyes.

"As you may have guessed by now, you have a new master! And when I get done with you putrid piles of ectoplasm, I will once again reign supreme as the ruler of the dead!" He cackled as the others screamed and shouted, making pointless threats. The sound of cocking guns made him turn.

"You ain't that tough," snarled Sewell. He and Huet had their revolvers aimed at him. At once they fired, shooting Atticus square in the chest. Each bullet knocked him back a few millimeters but otherwise did no harm.

"You simple spirits think you can beat me? I am the most powerful--" He didn't get to finish. With a loud CLANG Gus knocked him out with a blow to the head from his metal ball. George was dropped and landed on the ballroom floor with a groan.

"Get him, Phinny!" a hoarse voice called out. George, still reeling from being hanged, could barely make out the blurry images of two figures as they ran towards him. He was lifted up under his arms by the two ghosts and they hurried off with him in tow.

"Where do we take him?" asked a second voice. George recognized it as his friend, Phineas. If he was Phineas, the other was certainly Phineas's half brother and best friend, Ezra.

"Um..." Ezra muttered frantically. The skeletal spook furrowed his brow in thought for a moment. "Let's take him to Leota's room. Maybe she can cast some kind of protection spell."

"Good thinking," agreed Phineas as they ran to the seance chamber. Upon entering, they dropped George, a little roughly, onto a rug. "Leota--"Phineas started.

He and Ezra starred at the crystal ball in stunned silence. It didn't show the usual image of Madame Leota's face; rather, it displayed a scene from what appeared to be a school hallway. Teenagers ran through, lockers slammed, a teacher was breaking up a fight, and somewhere a shrill bell rang.

"What the heck is that?" asked Phineas. The plump phantom watched the goings-on with awe.

The scene suddenly vanished and the dead medium appeared. "That was going to be our ticket to salvation if you hadn't interrupted me!" she snapped.

"Hey, sor-ry!" Ezra griped. "We didn't know...wait," the emaciated man looked confused. He took off his bowler derby and scratched his bald head. "'Ticket to salvation'? What do you mean? Do you know about what's happened?"

With a frustrated sigh, Leota admitted, "Yes. In fact, it's my fault he's here. I opened a portal and released him by mistake."

George suddenly bolted upright, mind clear and eyes focused. "You WHAT!"

"I was conjuring spirits again," she chuckled weakly as he glared at her. "I know you've told me not to, but you can't imagine what it's like being stuck in here and having no powers! October is the only time of the year when my abilities grow to what they had once been."

"Leota..." he began threateningly as he stood up.

"I thought a little portal would do no harm." She smiled sheepishly. "A few hellish wraiths never hurt anyone. But he..." She faltered under the stares of the three men. "He got out. I thought someone was keeping an eye on him, I really did!"

"You of all people should know..." George started.

"You don't think I'm not afraid? I'm terrified of him and what he could do to...Oh my god! My daughter! Little Leota!"

The door swung open, making them all gasp. A floating candleabra, the tell-tale sign of Prudence floated in, along with a small, dainty girl holding her invisible hand. "You need to keep a better eye on her Ms.," drawled the maid.

"Mom!" cried the girl as she ran to the table. She put her thin arms around the crystal ball and hugged it. "What's happening? Why is everyone screaming?"

Leota bit her lower lip, trying to think of an explanation. Saying her father was back would only give the girl the wrong impression. How someone so sweet could have been fathered by something so despicable, Leota had no idea.

George decided to come to her rescue. "There's a very bad man in the house."

She stared at him with big, green innocent eyes. After a short moment of silence she asked, "Why are you wearing a rope around your neck?"

He glanced down at the glowing purple rope that dangled down to his chest. "Oh, right."

"Looks better than your tie," joked Ezra with a snicker.

George took off the noose and flung it at him. "Well," he asked Leota, "what can we do about this?"

"I'm working on it," she replied. She closed her eyes in concetration. "But first..." The door closed and a glowing, pulsating green light covered it. "That should stop him...for a few minutes, I'm afraid."

"What about the others?" asked Phineas, clutching his tophat worriedly.

She turned to the chubby ghost. "We'll just have to hope for the best." Once again, her face vanished and was replaced with the image of the hallway...

* * *

"I had the freakiest dream last night!" said Leila as she turned the lock for her locker. She got the wrong combination for the third time. "God!" She hit the door with her fist. 

"Was it about the house?" asked Paul.

"Yeah, and some weird woman that kept repeating, 'Help us!' over and over. I feel like I didn't get any sleep, and there's that history test today..." A fourth try opened the door. "Finally!" she grumbled. When she looked into the metal cabinet, she screamed. On the inside of the door was the woman's face. "Come to the house," she begged faintly.

"What?" asked Paul. He peered in, but didn't see anything.

* * *

"Don't touch!" screamed Leota. 

George took his finger off the glass. "But I didn't even..."

"You tapped it! It's not your stupid fish tank! The slightest interruption could ruin my contact," she hissed. "I'd expect something like that from those two," she nodded to Ezra and Phineas, who were playing Texas Hold 'Em with Little Leota. The three were floating in the air, sitting cross-legged, cards in front of their faces.

"You lose," the girl said to Ezra after they showed their cards. "Give it!"

Grumbling, he took off his bowler derby and handed it to her.

"Sorry," Gracey apologized ashamedly.

With a frustrated sigh, and a "Why me?", she once again closed her eyes. "If we don't get through to her, we're going to have to take drastic measures." She opened one eye and smirked at him. "Part of me hopes we'll have too." She chuckled, sending a shiver down George's spine.

He gulped nervously. "Leota" and "drastic" we're never a good combination. "What-what did you have in mind?"

"Shh! Let me work!"

The crystal ball swirled and showed the girl and her friend sitting at a cafeteria table. "I hate peas," she muttered as she smooshed the green veggies on her tray.

"At least they gave us a cookie," said Paul cheerfully. "Granted, they're the leftovers from last Halloween, but it's the thought that counts." He was suddenly shoved from behind by a burly twelfth grader and his face was shoved into his mashed potatoes. As the senior and his friends walked away laughing, Paul lifted his head. "I hate jocks," he muttered as he wiped off his glasses.

"Duke!" shouted Leila, frowning. She stood up, her pale hands clenched into fists.

"Don't get his attention!" squeaked Paul. The bully kept walking, ignoring her.

"Why do the seniors think they have the right to push us around?" she asked as she sat back down.

"Because they do," said Paul. "It's the Circle of High School Life." He did a very poor James Earl Jones impression. "Besides," he continued in his normal voice, "it's no big deal. So what if I have gravy on my bangs? Best just to leave it alone."

That was the only thing Paul did that really annoyed Leila. The boy had no backbone. Scowling, she stared back at her peas. "What the...?" The were moving by themselves, forming letters. "Paul, Paul look!" She grabbed his collar and yanked him closer to her plate. At once, the two read the now formed message out loud. "Peas help us."

"Cryptic," muttered Paul with arched eyebrows. "Not to mention cheesy."

"This is just too weird!" She picked up the tray and ran to the nearest garbage can and dumped out the food. "I've had it with this!"

"What? The cafeteria food? I know it lacks flavor and any sort of nutritional value, but neither of us has Burger King cash."

She glared at him, her multicolored eyes fierce. "Don't joke! That creepy lady has nearly driven me insane."

"She's made you cranky, too." He smiled, hoping to calm her down. "Maybe you should go to the mansion," he suggested. "What harm could it do?"

* * *

Madame Leota did her own head happy dance in her crystal ball. "Listen to the boy!"

* * *

She shook her head. "That place scares me! What if this is like in that one horror movie, you know, where you think the hero is being summoned to help some innocent spirit, but then the ghost just kills him." The bell rang, signaling the end of lunch. 

"Great, we have that history test next period," grumbled Paul. "I don't know anything."

They grabbed their backpacks and filed out with the other students. "Who knows?" said Leila teasingly with a grin, "Maybe you'll suddenly get sick and won't have to take it."

Paul crossed his fingers. "Maybe if I puke peas everywhere I can skip." He pretended to dry heave. "Who am I kidding? I don't have that kind of luck."

* * *

"What now?" asked George. 

Behind him, Little Leota was wearing Ezra's derby, coat, and bowtie. "One more game!" the skinny specter cried, flinging down his cards.

Fists suddenly pounded on the door. "I know you're in here, George!" shouted Atticus. "Leota, open the door this instant!" He furiously turned the glowing handle, but the entrance remained shut.

"Now," said Madame Leota as she turned her face towards her spell book, "we take drastic measures."


	4. A Little Black Magic

"Gus, do you mind?" George asked, cocking his head towards the door and the yelling Atticus. Gus grinned and vanished. A few seconds later everyone in the room heard a loud THUNK, and Atticus' yelling ceased immediately. Gus reappeared in the room.

"Take him somewhere where he can't bother us," George instructed wearily. He didn't care where. He just wanted to be rid of the warlock. Mischevious looks appeared on Gus', Ezra's and Phineas' faces, and they all disappeared at once. Their laughter could be heard as they picked up the unconscious undead and carried him off to who knows where.

Now rid of one problem, George turned back to Leota.

"Okay…what's this plan of yours?"

"Ever heard of possession?" Leota asked him.

"Yes, of course," George replied, annoyed, "You don't think I've tried it before? It doesn't work."

"You can't just walk up to someone and jump into their body," Leota snapped, "It takes serious amounts of magic…and fortunately, at this time, I have it."

George's look of annoyance changed to one of discomfort.

"What are you suggesting?"

"The girl isn't catching on to our hints. We need to give her a more direct message. And I think you can do that…with the help of her friend."

"Are you saying you want to put me into the body of a sixteen year old?" George asked incredulously.

"It's just a simple possession spell…I SHOULD be able to return you," Leota said, reassuringly, but even she was a little unsure about the results of the spell. George shook his head.

"This is rediculous! We don't even know if it'll work! What if-" George started to babble, but Leota just sighed.

"Oh, shut up and stand still." She psychically flipped her spellbook to a page with the heading 'Possession,' which looked as if it was scrawled in blood. Despite George's complaints, she read the spell.

_Release this spirit from the realm of the dead, _

_Insert his mind into another's head, _

_Give him control of a human life _

_So we may settle this ruckus and strife. _

George's whining was drowned out by a sudden burst of wind that came from nowhere. It whipped through the room, causing Leota to rattle on her pedestal and the tarot cards on her table began to flap and flutter about furiously. The musical instruments that she had kept in her room for seances to contact the dead started to fly about too, and the mysterious wind caused them to produce strange, off-key notes and sounds.

The wind then circled itself around George, who started to squint from the wind blowing through him. Leota herself even rose into the air from the wind, and she watched George battle against the strong wind. All of a sudden, there was an anticlimactic little _poit_ sound, and George was gone.

* * *

Leila and Paul were late. As they rushed through the empty hallways to their class, they were arguing. Leila's blond hair whipped around her face as Paul's strings from his hoodie hit his face. 

"We're gonna miss the test!" Leila complained.

"Well if you hadn't taken so long to find your purse in your locker!" Paul retorted.

"Hey! A purse is the high school girl's number one necessity!"

"Oh yeah? Well I think-"

But Leila never got to hear just what Paul thought, because he had collapsed on the ground.

"Paul!" Leila yelped, dropping to his side. He had landed face down, and when she turned him over, she held back a scream.

Paul's mouth was slightly agape and his eyes were bright white. It looked as if he was dead, but he was still breathing.

"Oh god. Oh god, oh god," Leila said, panicking. She didn't know whether to get help or stay with him. All of a sudden, his eyes snapped shut and opened again. They looked normal, but a little unfocused.

"Paul?" Leila whispered to him. He sat up immediately, blinking and shaking his head.

"Bloody hell," he muttered. His voice sounded a little different – kind of like he had a bit of a British accent.

"Paul, are you okay?" Leila asked him. He turned to her.

"Oh, it's you!" he said happily, "I need you to come with me."

"What?"

"We need your help – haven't you been getting Leota's messages?"

Leila stood up slowly, and Paul did the same. Leila stared at him as he looked at his clothes and seemed to examine himself.

"Is this what passes for fasion these days? Good lord."

Leila backed away, confused.

"Paul?" she said slowly, "Is that you?"

"Oh, no, terribly sorry," Paul said, "Allow me to introduce myself. I'm George Gracey, the owner of the mansion you're so terrified of." A confused look appeared on his face and he put his hand on his throat. "What's with this voice? I sound like someone on helium!" He said.

"What-…you-…huh?" Leila sputtered, confused.

"Allow me to explain," Paul…or rather, George, said politely, "The mansion that you're so afraid of, the one that gives you chills, the one that everyone says is haunted…is haunted.

"I'm the owner of the mansion…and I'm also dead. I've…er…temporarily borrowed your friend's body so I can get you to come to the house! Let's go!"

He grabbed Leila's arm and tried to pull her to the exit, but she stuck fast.

"Wait. You're a ghost? And you've possessed my best friend?" Leila asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, yes," George said, "But it's necessary! You're the only one who can help us!"

"If your mind is in Paul's body, then where's HIS mind?"

"Er…" George faltered. "I couldn't tell you. I don't know much about Leota's magic."

"I want to know where he is," Leila demanded, gripping George's arm tightly.

"Ow!" He yelped. He stared at his arm for a second, and then smiled.

"Hey! I felt pain! I haven't felt pain like that in over a hundred years!" he said happily.

Leila stared at him, still slightly in the dark. Where was Paul? And would she really have to go to that dark, forboding mansion?

* * *

The wind instantly ceased, causing everything that was flying about to suddenly drop. Leota fell with a _thud_ onto her table, and Little Leota scurried over to put her back on the pedestal.

"Now what mommy?" the girl asked.

"Well, all we have to do is wait. The spell should've worked…"

But as soon as Leota said those words, the wind started up again. It wasn't as strong this time, and Leota and her daughter watched in confusion as George reappeared, lying on the floor. He moaned and sat up, his eyes still shut.

"George?" Leota asked apprehensively.

* * *

Paul felt extremely groggy. He was experiencing a lightheaded sensation, and when he opened his eyes everything was blurry.

"Leila?" he asked groggily. All he could see was a bright green light.

A voice had asked if he was George, and he figured he should respond.

"George? I'm not George…I'm Paul."

"Oops," Leota muttered.

"What's going on?" Paul asked. His vision was getting better, and he realized that his voice was much deeper than it usually is, and his usual baggy clothes felt tight and uncomfortable.

"Hey…Paul, is it?" Leota asked embarrassedly. She quickly read through the spell and realized that she had made a mistake.

It was SOUL into another's life, not MIND!

"Yeah…it's Paul…"

"Hi!" Leota said brightly, "I'm Madame Leota. You might be wondering where you are."

Paul's vision finally cleared up and he saw a woman's head inside a green crystal ball and a little girl in a white dress, who was gawking at him.

"Oh my god," He said, stumbling awkwardly to his feet. He felt taller, and looked down. He realized that he was wearing a gray tuxedo instead of his usual hoodie.

"Am I dead?" Paul gasped. The last thing he remembered was heading to history, and then everything went black.

"Well, uh…technically, yes."

"What?"

"Er…how do I explain this…" Leota mused to herself. This could be a challenge.

"I've been trying to get messages to your friend, but she ignored them. So I sent the master of the house, George Gracey, to bring her here. But since he's dead, I had to…well…send him and possess you."

"You mean there's a ghost in my body right now? And I'm in his?" Paul found a mirror on the wall and walked over to it, staring at his reflection in shock. He had black hair and thick sideburns, and bright blue eyes. He reached out to touch the mirror, but when it reached the surface his hand continued, going through the mirror.

"Holy crap. I AM dead." He stared at his other hand and watched as it became blue and transparent, then normal again.

"Don't worry," Leota said quickly, "As soon as George comes back we can get you back to normal. But in the meantime, enjoy yourself."

Paul raised an eyebrow.

"You're the master of this mansion – nobody knows about the spell. You are basically in charge of this whole place.

But there is one small, minute detail I have to warn you about…" Leota added. Just as Paul was about to ask what it was, the door burst open.

Atticus was standing in the doorway, his eyes bright red with rage, fuming.

"LEOTA! How DARE you make a fool out of me like that!" He yelled angrily.

"Who's that?" Paul asked Leota, oblivious to Atticus' real powers.

"That's…why we have to get your friend here. He has power over ghosts…and since you are one now, you need to be careful." Madame Leota warned.

Atticus turned to who he thought was George.

"Get out of my sight. This is between Leota and me."

He aimed his palm at Paul, and before he knew it he was flying out of the room and crashed through a second story window.

Paul landed on a dirt path with a thud, and realized that he didn't feel any pain.

"Well," he breathed, getting up and dusting off his pants, "At least that didn't hurt."

He looked around, and realized that he was at a huge gate. And past that gate was the largest cemetary he had ever seen.

"Holy shittake mushrooms!" Paul yelped in a very un-George-like way. He realized that the graveyard was full of ghosts – and some of them were staring at him.

"Uh…carry on," he tried to say in his most dignified voice. They shrugged and continued on with their normal activites.

Paul smiled. Leila could take her time if she wanted to…


	5. You Dodge The Ball

"Why," demanded Leila as Paul-no, she told herself- George preened himself using her compact mirror, "do you need me to go to that house?"

He dragged himself away from his unusual reflection. "What are these?" he asked, pointing to his mouth.

"Braces," she hurriedly answered, annoyed that he wasn't giving her the information she wanted. "Why exactly did you possess my best friend?"

"What are they for?" he asked, completely ignoring her.

"He has a few teeth that grew in weird on the left side--That's not important!" She grabbed the collar of Paul's jacket and pulled George close to her face. "What," she snarled, nostrils flared, "is wrong with the mansion and how can I get my friend back?"

Eyes wide with pure panic and shock behind the thick lenses, George stammered, "There's an evil--" But before he could explain, he was interrupted as a voice droned, "There you two are."

Leila and George turned to see a middle aged man with a thin, greasy ponytail standing in the doorway of a classroom. Behind him, students craned their necks as far as they could so they could see what the commotion was without having to get up from their desks. Upon seeing the brooding, quiet Leila gripping the geeky Paul so that their faces were just centimeters from each other, they sniggered and made crude moaning and kissing noises. The pale girl felt her cheeks grow hot as she blushed.

"Hi, Mr. Coats," she mumbled.

"Hi to you too, Miss Toombs, Mr. Yale. You're just in time for your history test. Unfortunately, you just missed the history test review I gave the class. Take your seats and we'll discuss your punishment later. You know skipping class is not tolerated."

"Yes, sir," Leila mumbled as she walked in. George grabbed her arm and stopped her.

"Sir," he began. When Leila gave him an odd look, he smiled and whispered, "Just let me handle this." To the teacher, he said, "I'm sorry we're late for you quiz, but we have more important, pressing matters to settle." Ignoring Leila's protests, he continued, "If you don't mind, Leila and I really need to be going. I'm sure she and Pa--I can make up this little exam later, at a more convienent time." He smiled in a smug, winning way that just didn't suit the body he was inhabitating. "If you don't mind, we'll be on our way." He took Leila's hand and began to saunter out...

* * *

"I can't believe you did that," Leila muttered. They had finished their test and were waiting for the bell to ring. Kids around her were still whispering and shooting her sly looks.

George shrugged. He was sitting in the desk in front of the blond, turned around in his seat. "It usually works. People always do what I say."

"Thanks to you, I have a week's worth of detentions," Leila huffed. "And now everyone thinks I was making out with you--er, Paul." She glared at her classmates.

He raised a thick eyebrow quizzically. "'May-king-out'?" he prounced slowly, confused.

She stared down at her detention form. All she needed was for her mom to sign it, then she would turn it in to Mr. Coats. Feeling her face once again flush, she explained, "They think we were kissing."

"Oh...That's a dumb thing to call it. Besides, unmarried girls wouldn't do that sort of thing in public, right?"

With both eyebrows arched and eyes wide, she said, "Wow, you have been dead a long time." The ghost regarded her with a mix of curiosity and amusement before the bell rang for their last period class. "As much as I would love to skip phys. ed., there's no way we can. Coach Crump would catch us for sure." Sighing, she took him by the wrist. "Come on, we have to just make it through P. E. and then we can leave."

"What's pee? Oh, wait...that's a disgusting subject for a school curriculum!" he cried, shocked.

Leila didn't know whether to laugh or feel more worried.

Paul concentrated, arms down by his sides, palms facing the ground. Slowly, he floated two inches above the moist cemetery dirt. Giggling, he hovered for nearly a minute before he was distracted by someone yelling, and fell. He flew back up into a standing position, marveling at the lighter than air sensation. It was amazing! He could go from being kind of solid and walking and normal looking, to weightless and transparent and gliding. And the respect he got was just...just...downright thrilling! No one pushed him, or shoved him into a locker, or whipped him with towels. Little neighborhood kids didn't call him "four eyes" or "brace face". Dogs weren't chasing him.

The afterlife was sweet! Or, rather, the afterlife as Master Gracey was sweet. All he had to do was just kill time until Leila came back. He chuckled to himself . Heh, kill time. Although, part of him did feel a little guilty leaving the crystal ball woman and the little girl alone with that weird...whatever he was. But what could he do? If he had power over ghosts, Paul couldn't do anything. He might as well enjoy himself.

Once again, he heard the yell. He turned, straining his ear to listen. "HELP!" He followed the voice until it lead him to a small, shut mauselum. Hesitating for only a second out of sheer nervousness, he stepped through the door. It was just as he expected: filled with cobwebs and a few coffins. What was a surprise, however, were the three ghosts sitting in the middle of the floor, tied up with a chain. One was plump, with a round face, and messy hair, which was barely concealed under a tophat. He was the one that had been yelling. The second was short, with a long beard, and it appeared, bizzarrely enough, that the chain had started from a clasp on his ankle. The third, and maddest looking of the bunch, was skinny to the point of being emaciated. A bow tie rested undrer his chin, a bowler derby was perched on his head, and between the two was a metal ball, which had been shoved in his mouth. His large, bulging eyes were scowling as fiercly as they could, showing his displeasure in the situation.

"You guys need a little help?" asked Paul as he approached them.

The thin one tried to snap a sarcastic remark, but all that came out was, "Huff voo foo fink?"

"Ezzie says yes," said the shortest in a gruff, scratchy voice.

Paul stared at the chains, not knowing where to start. "You need to uncork Ezra," said the plump one. "As much as it may pain us." Ezra glowered at him, and the other ghost returned it with a wide grin. Paul pulled out the metal ball/gag from out of Ezra's mouth.

"Thank you!" the skeletal specter cried. He stretched out his jaw.

"I knew we could count on you, George," added the round faced ghost with a kind smile.

As he unwound the chain, Paul asked, "What happened?"

"Well," started Ezra, "we were taking care of Atticus, just like you asked."

"Atticus?" Paul asked before he could catch himself.

"Yeah..." said the plump ghost slowly as he shimmied out of the bind. "Anyway, we had his head right over the toilet bowl and then, well..."

"He woke up," said the littlest ghost. He jumped up as soon as he was freed. Paul was shocked to see that they had been tied up using a chain that was shackled to his ankle.

"So, this Atticus," asked Paul, "he's bad news?"

The three ghosts stared at him. "You feelin' okay?" asked Ezra.

"Yeah, I'm fine, guys. Just, uh," he faltered, "must be coming down with, uh...ghost flu." He grinned.

They shot each other unsure looks and then turned back to Paul. "What's my name?" asked the plump one.

"Uh, uh..." Okay, thought Paul, something old fashioned. Think! "Uh, Phil-" The ghost arched an eyebrow. Phillip wasn't going to be right. "Uh, Phi...neas?"

They glanced at each other again. After what felt like a tense eternity, they smiled. "Must be okay," said Ezra, "how else would he know---HOW DID YOU DIE!" he demanded.

"Gah!" Paul yelped in surprise. "I--I, uh, stabbed...No! Shot!" They shook their heads. "Uh, decapitated?"

"Eeert!" The short ghost imitated a game show buzzer. "The correct answer was, 'What is hanged'?"

"But we have some lovely parting gifts," said Phineas. "You get a free trip to Swirly City unless you tell us who you are and what happened to George." Ezra cracked his knuckles and Gus cackled wickedly.

Paul grimaced, staring at the three fearfully. He backed up against a wall as they advanced towards him, and then fell through and landed on his back. They followed and he tried desperately to scramble away. "I don't know what happened! I was just walking to history class and then, poof, I'm this Gracey guy, and apparently he's in my body, being me, because some bodyless chick in a crystal ball made it happen! Please don't hurt me!"

The trio stopped. The threatening looks vanished as they stared at the imposter, confused and worried. It was bizarre to see their calculated, cool, arrogant friend, hands clasped, pleading on his knees. He just looked so...pitiful.

"We aren't going to hurt you, kid," Ezra sighed.

"You--you aren't?" the false George asked as he timidly got to his feet. "Thank you!" He enthusiatically shook their hands.

"One question though," said Phineas. "Who are you?"

"I'm Paul. Paul Yale. And, you're Phineas right? And Ezra?" They nodded. "And you are?"

"Gus!"

"Right, okay. Um, it might be best if you guys didn't tell anyone else what's going on."

"Why?" asked Phineas. "Could the consequences be dire?"

"No, but this whole 'Master Gracey' thing is freakin' sweet! It's amazing! People are actually listening to me!"

"I'm sorry, did you say something?" asked Ezra as he picked ectoplasmic wax out of his ear.

"Well, everyone except Lord Voldemort up there." Paul nodded to Leota's room. Purple lights could be seen in the window. "He threw me out the window. Is he that Atticus freak you were talking about?"

"Yep," said Phineas, "and if he found out what was going on... Well, let's just hope he doesn't."

"What about them?" asked Gus, sweeping his arm to suggest the whole graveyard.

"They'd lose it," answered Ezra. "As far as they know, things are being kept under control by you--er, George and Madam Leota. If they found out you were some random mortal, we'd be in total choas. Just curious, how old are you, anyway?"

Feeling embarrassed, Paul replied, "Sixteen."

Phineas dropped his face in his hand, shook his head, and sighed. "Oh boy. I really hope Leota knew what she was doing with this."

"We gotta keep him out of trouble," suggested Gus.

After studying their pathetic looking friend, Phineas said, "Why not take him on a tour? As long as we can keep him away from Atticus long enough for Leota to have George do whatever he needs to do, we should be fine."

"Sounds like a plan," muttered Ezra.

"Spankin'!" Paul grinned. "Where to first?" He jogged to catch up with his new buddies.

"First off, don't EVER say that again!" snapped Ezra. "Spankin'... You kids have such crazy slng. Y'all sound like you just graduated from squirrel college."

* * *

"What are we playing?" asked George, feeling oddly exposed in his t-shirt and shorts. The shirt was on backwards because he had dressed with his eyes closed. He was standing in the middle of a cement court. A few kids, including Leila, stood nearby.

"Dodgeball," Leila hissed in his ear.

George brightened. "That sounds fun? How do you play?"

"You dodge the ball."

"And when--" Coach Crump blew his whistle. Leila jumped aside. About twenty dodgeballs hit George in the face.

Lying in a crumpled heap, he groaned, "I don't think I like this game."


	6. Random Humorous Coincidences In Dialogue

Much to George's dismay (and Leila's amusement), the rest of the period continued about the same. The poor possessor limped out the door as he and Leila left school, still aching from the game.

"And why is that game offered in your schoolhouse?" George asked wearily as they headed to the parking lot.

"It's…er…_supposed_ to be…fun," Leila said, stifling giggles, "Don't worry…you'll probably never have to play again."

"Excellent!" George said, cheering up a bit. He and Leila stopped in front of Paul's car; Leila usually got a ride home from him afterschool.

"Um…what are we doing?" George asked Leila. She froze, realizing that her usual driver was about a few miles away, and dead.

"Oh, crap."

"I beg your pardon?" George said, making a confused look appear on Paul's face. Leila shut her eyes, trying to think of a way home and to the mansion.

"Crap crap crap crap crap!"

"What is this 'crap' you're saying?" George asked, but Leila didn't hear him. She certainly couldn't drive with just her learner's permit, and George probably didn't even know what a car was called. Leila rattled off more swear words, and George questioned every one.

"Er…you don't need to add any of those words to your vocabulary," she said, blushing. The girl then grabbed George's shoulders, and stared him straight in the eye.

"Okay. I need you to pay very, very…VERY close attention to what I'm about to teach you. Do you understand?"

George nodded.

* * *

Ezra, Gus, Phineas and Paul had gotten around to the front of the house. They stood in front of the brick manse, which looked foreboding even during the afternoon. With it's tall towers and detailed décor, Paul realized that the man who had built this house was very rich…and that was him.

Too bad they didn't let ghosts into BestBuy.

They walked up the steps and Paul opened the right front door to go in. The other three simply walked through the closed door.

"Oh yeah…" Paul muttered as he shut the door behind him, "I can do that now."

If they had feeling, the four would've felt the temperature get instantly lower – the house was cool and refreshing on a hot summer's day, and a habitat only for ghosts and eskimos in the winter. It's disregard of a heating system added that perfect chill to creep out to paranoid ghost hunters and dared troublemakers alike.

The foyer consisted of a small room with wood paneled walls and a portrait that Paul recognized as the body he was now inhabiting. A fireplace was below that, and it seemed to have died out, save for a few coals glowing meekly. Suddenly, his new voice filled the room, but Paul wasn't speaking.

"Where hinges creak in doorless chambers…and strange and frightening sounds echo through the halls…"

"George would usually do this in person, but I guess since he set the recording on," Phineas whispered to Paul. It looked like the mansion got more 'business' than he and Leila thought.

"…where candlelights flicker where the air is deathly still…that is the time when ghosts are present…practicing their terror with ghoulish delight."

Paul chuckled at the narration. Looks like ghosts had a lot of free time on their hands. However, his chuckle quickly died when he saw that the portrait of George was transforming. It changed from the stately, young, and handsome man that Paul now was into a abnormally pale and gaunt looking skeleton. The eyes, still bright blue, seemed to leer at him and the others.

Suddenly one of the paneled walls opened up, sliding away to reveal a room. It seemed pretty small, but there was plenty of room for a little crowd of people, let alone four ghosts.

"This is gonna be good," Gus said, raising his eyebrows at Paul as Phineas and Ezra walked in the room.

"Welcome, foolish mortals…to the Haunted Mansion. I am your host…your 'ghost host,'" the recording said with a very George-like joke and a chuckle. "Our tour begins here, in this gallery, where you see paintings of some of our guests as they appeared in their corruptible, mortal state. Kindly step all the way in, please, and make room for everyone. There's no turning back now…"

* * *

"There's no turning back now," Leila muttered as she buckled her seat belt and George slowly started the car. She had gone over everything she knew about driving, enough to get them to the mansion and home. He moved to drive, and slowly pushed on the pedal. The car started to move, and George gasped.

"Such an amazing invention! Such a shame I wasn't alive in this era!" He said in awe, pulling out.

"You don't get out much, do you?" Leila asked as he made a sharp curve onto the road. She lurched in her seat and held on tight. At least he was going the speed limit.

"For some reason we are all bound to the mansion. Many a time we have tried to leave, and Leota has cast spell after spell…but it seems that there's some sort of barrier around the house and grounds; like an invisible wall," he explained absentmindedly, drifting into the other lane.

"WATCH THE ROAD!" Leila screamed, and George jerked the car back over to his side, narrowly missing a large red truck, who honked and swore loudly at the two.

"Er…you don't need to remember any of those words either," Leila said with a frown.

"Yes, sorry about that, dreadful mistake," George mumbled, embarrassed. He had been sent to the finest schools in the country and was one of the smartest people in his time…why couldn't he master this simple device?

After a few minutes he got the hang of it, and he and Leila relaxed a bit. But as they passed the mansion on the way to Leila's house to get some supplies, she got her usual aura of foreboding…

* * *

"Your cadaverous pallor betrays an aura of foreboding," the Ghost Host recording said darkly. Paul did feel nervous, and for good reason: the four paintings in the gallery had started to stretch, along with the rest of the room.

The portraits had originally been a young woman in her summer dress holding a parasol, an older gentleman placing a document in the breast pocket of his stately tuxedo, a young man smiling with his arms folded, and an old woman holding a rose. But as the room elongated there seemed to be more to these haunting works of art.

The young woman was standing on a fraying tightrope over a river…with a hungry crocodile waiting patiently below with open jaws…

The gentleman was actually wearing only boxer shorts, slacks, and shoes from the waist down…and standing on a barrel of dynamite with a lit fuse…

The young man was actually sitting on the shoulders of another man, who was in turn sitting on the shoulders of another man, who was the only one aware that all three are doomed...for he was waist deep in quicksand…

And the old lady was sitting on her husband's gravestone, and they could see a bust of her husband at the base of the Grave... with his head split by an axe.

"…Almost as though you sense a disquieting metamorphosis," the narration continued through this entire happening, "Is this haunted room actually stretching? Or is it your imagination, hmmm? And consider this dismaying observation: this chamber has no windows and no doors." With an evil chuckle the room stopped stretching, and Paul looked around – they were indeed trapped. He tried to fight the nerve to panic, and looked at his three companions.

They had looks of extreme boredom on their faces, and Ezra let out a yawn.

"…Which offers you this chilling challenge…to find…a way out!" And with a maniacal cackle, the room was plunged into darkness.

Lightning flashed from above, and Paul looked up to see that the ceiling that had once been there was gone, and in its place was a skeleton wearing a frayed and tattered tuxedo hanging from some rafters by a thick rope. The lightning stopped, and they were left in the darkness again. Paul turned to face Ezra, Phineas and Gus, and realized that they were glowing bright green, illuminating the room slightly.

"Medical condition," Gus explained.

"Was that…" Paul asked, a lump in his throat.

"Yup. The big boss man, the head honcho, the 'all-that-and-a-bag-o-potato-chips'…you."

"Me?" Paul squeaked, causing George's voice to sound very strange.

"Oh, relax…not YOU you…your body you. That up there was George's corpse. That's how he died."

"He hung himself?"

"Er…not exactly…"

"But how-" Paul was about to ask, but suddenly another panel slid open, motioning them to continue on.

"Oh…I didn't mean to frighten you prematurely…the REAL chills come later. Now, as they say, look 'alive'…and we'll continue our little tour. And let's all stay together, please," the recording warned fiendishly. They entered an ornately decorated hallway, filled with urns and a small table and chair. Ezra motioned for them to follow him, and they came to a T-intersection.

"Take a left," Gus instructed, and the four ghosts did so. The hallway the entered was pitch black, and for a few seconds Paul couldn't see anything…but soon the way was lit again, and they stopped at a staircase leading to a balcony.

"Oy! Prudence!" Phineas called. A few seconds later, and much to Paul's surprise, a candelabra that seemed to be floating came to the edge of the balcony!

"What now!" A woman's voice drawled. Paul speculated that there was a ghost holding the floating candles, and watched with interest.

"Just checkin' to make sure you're still up there," Phineas replied cheerfully, and they continued through the hallway underneath the balcony. George could hear Prudence groan as they moved on.

They passed a strange hallway with many 'family portraits' as Gus described it, each of the eyes eerily large and watching the ghosts as they continued on their tour...

And soon Ezra, Gus and Phineas led Paul into a room that brought a smile to his face. A large library.

"Our library is well stocked with priceless first editions – only ghost stories of course. And marble busts of some of the greatest ghost writers the literary world has ever known. They have all…retired here, to the Haunted Mansion. Actually," the narration continued as Paul spotted a piano that seemed to be playing itself, but guessed there was a ghost there, "we have nine hundred and ninety-nine 'happy haunts' here…but there's room for a thousand…any volunteers?"

* * *

"Actually, we have nine hundred and ninety-nine 'happy haunts' there," George explained to Leila. He had been filling her in on the mansion and its history as he pulled into her driveway (hitting the curb on the way in), and parked. 

"Okay, I just want to grab some books I have on ghosts and such, and maybe some food, y'know…" she said as she got out of her car. She unlocked the front door with her key and opened it.

"Leila? Is that you?" came a call from inside. It was her mother.

Leila froze. Her mom knew Paul pretty well…what if she figured out that he wasn't exactly…himself…right now?

"Uh…yeah!" She called back hesitantly, "Paul and I are just dropping by, grabbing a few things…"

"Paul's here? Oh, I haven't talked to him for ages! Send him in here!"

George and Leila stared at each other.

"What should I do?" George asked uncertainly.

"Just…try to act natural," Leila said helplessly as they went inside.


	7. Ghost Stories, Of Course!

George stood nervously in the middle of the living room, taking in his surroundings with wide, frightened eyes as he contemplated what to do. The wooden wall clock ticked-tocked loudly, counting off precious seconds that could have been spent rescuing his mansion. The entertainment center against one wall consisted of a large shelf with a average sized television set, something George found immensely fascinating. He kept turning it on and off until Leila snatched the control away from him. Underneath the T. V. was a modest collection of videos. On the shelf above the television were several photographs of Leila at various ages, her mother, and one of a pale, blond man with bright green eyes. Two ceramic bowls, each looking handmade and hand painted, sat on either side of the pictures. A strange, vine like plant, some kind of bamboo, grew out of the bowls, spiraling up into odd twists and turns. George suspected that Mrs. Toombs was the artsy sort, judging by not only the bamboo bowls, but by the little hand made (well, technically sown using a machine) dark green pillows on the couch, and the hand woven tapestry hanging on the wall. It was a very curious piece that George couldn't resist studying for a moment. The image on the cloth was that of a beautiful young dancing girl. But if he turned his head just right and looked at it from a certain angle, he could see a dancing skeleton.

In awe, he throughly examined the work. He was a lover of the arts; perhaps not a true connesseur, but he still appreciated unique craftsmanship. Back when he was alive, he had collected many similiar objects. Very tentavily, he touched the thread with his fingertips, feeling the patterns of bumps and smoothness in the cloth. He grinned, thrilled by the sensation.

"Do you like it?" asked a level, calm voice behind him, causing him to turn. Leila's mother walked into the room, holding a steaming mug in each hand. She was a pretty, mousey woman in her early forties. Loosely, her brown hair was pulled back into a ponytail and tendrils had escaped, curling around her ears and face. She wore a simple, long poofy-sleeved white top, with tiny emboroided flowers around the collar and on the shoulders. It reminded George of something a peasant might have worn in the times of the Renaissance. A long, beige skirt flowed down nearly to her comfortable mocassins. Around her neck she wore a thin strip of leather that had a small silver pentagram charm dangling from it. She had kind slate gray eyes that exuded warmth, despite their cold color.

"It's beautiful," answered George, taking a step back away from the tapestry. "I've never seen one like it before."

"It's one of a kind," Mrs. Toombs beamed, handing Leila and Paul each one of the mugs. "Took me nearly a year to make. I'm surprised you haven't seen it, Paul. But, then again, I had it in the attic for a while and put it back up a few weeks ago. Maybe you just haven't visited since." She smiled in a sad sort of way. "Ashley thought it was too morbid."

George inhaled the aroma of hot chocolate, his mouth watering in anticipation. And Mrs. Toombs had even put in marshmallows! "Well, she obviously has poor taste."

Mrs. Toombs didn't say anything. The corner of her lips twitched up slightly, as if she couldn't decide whether to smile or cry.

"Paul," Leila interjected, breaking what was becoming an awkward silence, "you can't have marshmallows, remember?"

"I can't?" asked George, the edge of the cup tilted to his lips.

"No, you can't. They make your braces all gunky."

"Oh, sorry about that, Paul!" Leila's mother cried, taking the mug from him. "I'll get you a fresh glass."

As she hurried into the kitchen, a pitiful squeak escaped George. "But... my marshmallows." He turned to Leila, eyes big and lip quivering pitifully. "That's not fair!"

She shrugged one shoulder and slucked up one of the white, cotton-like lumps loudly. "Them's the breaks."

He glared at her as fiercely as he could. His shoulders slumped as he thought of those bits of fluffy goodness getting away. But after Mrs. Toombs returned, his worries were soon forgotten as the delicious hot liquid poured down his throat.

"Paul?" asked Mrs. Toombs worriedly as she watched the boy chug the cocoa as fast as he could without choking. "Were you thirsty, dear? Should I get you some water instead?"

Without pulling his lips away from the cup, he looked at her and shook his head. He drained the entierty of the glass and finally looked up with a sigh. "Ah...That's good cocoa," he declared with a contented smile.

"Should I get you another cup?"

As much as he wanted it, he had to shake his head. His throat felt scorched, and his tongue felt as if the skin had been burned off. "No, thank you, ma'am."

Leila stifled giggles behind her black sleeve. She patted the couch beside her, motioning for George to sit down. He obeyed, feeling grateful for the soft seat. His backside was still sore from hitting the pavement so much during the dodgball game.

"So," Mrs. Toombs began as she sat on a reclinear across from them, "what have you been up to, Paul?"

"Oh, um..." George struggled to think of something. "Not much. We had a history test today."

"How'd you do?"

"Great! After all, I was there when--" Before he could make a stupid mistake, Leila nudged him hard in the ribs. "Ow!"

Mrs. Toombs gave her an odd look. "Leila, I got a call from Mr. Coats after school let out." She raised her eyebrows in such a way that Leila knew she was in trouble. "How did you manage to get detention?"

"Locker trouble." The girl quickly answered.

Again, the eyebrows were raised, letting Leila know that she had been caught lying. "We'll discuss this later." She smiled. "So Paul, how has your little sister been?"

"Oh, uh, fine!" George practically yelled. "She's as sweet as always." Those arched eyebrows creeped him out.

"Mom," Leila quickly interjected, "Paul and I have some homework to do." She jumped up from the couch, holding his wrist.

"Bye Mrs. Toombs!" George called as she dragged him into her room. "Thanks for the cocoa!"

"You're welcome Paul...Leila, keep the door open!"

Her daughter groaned. "Mo-om!" Her mother had never asked her to do that before. She wondered what it was exactly that Mr. Coats had told her mother.

Leila's room wasn't very big. But, then again, her house wasn't either. Above her bed was a large dream catcher. She had a digital alarm clock on her bedside table. A bookshelf, crammed full, was along the right wall, a dresser occupied the left, and a book-covered desk was beside the closet doorway. Atop the dresser were various photogrphs, mainly of her and Paul at various birthday parties, hanging out at the beach, and some with them just grinning or laughing. Beside the dresser, was a painting her mother had done. It depicted a very young--perhaps three or four years old--Leila with the same blond man George had seen earlier. In tiny pen writing on the bottom of the picture it read, "Leila and Ashley" and it was dated nearly twelve years ago.

George felt a pang of embarrassment. He had thought that Ashley had been some friend of Mrs. Toombs, not Leila's father!

"Whatever Mr. Coats said, it's not true!" Leila cried before almost, but not quite, shutting the door. "Great. My own mother thinks we were...you know...doing that in the hallway." She visibly shuddered at the thought of her and Paul kissing. "Lord knows what rumors will spread by tomorrow. I hate people." She put her hands on her hips and huffed. "So, let's get to work."

"What are we looking for?" asked George as he watched Leila pull a cardboard box out of her closet. It was marked "Ashley's Books".

"Ghost stories, of course."

* * *

"Dude, this is so awesome!" cheered Paul as he scanned his eyes over the shelves. "Are these all first editions?" 

"Oh great," groaned Ezra sarcastically, "we got a book worm."

Paul didn't take his eyes off of the tomes as he said, "You're just jealous 'cause you're illiterate."

"What's that 'sposed to mean?" shouted Ezra defensively as Phineas and Gus laughed.

"Is this," Paul gasped, "a first edition of H. G. Wells's Time Machine?"

"Yes," said a nasal, whiny voice near Paul's ear. "It's signed, too, sir." Paul looked up and saw nothing but a ladder. Upon closer inspection, he noticed that some books were shuffling themselves, moving in and out of the bookcase, rearranging according to topic and then alphabetical order according to title.

"What about the whole 'only ghost stories, of course' thing?" the young man asked, gently waving the book with a grin.

There was a pause, and Paul could imagine the invisible librarian arching an eyebrow skeptically. "That whole gimmick was your idea, Mr. Gracey, not mine." He sounded as if he had gone into the afterlife with a nasty cold. "Of course, you've probably forgotten that by now, just like you've forgotten the library." The room seemed to darken with his mood, the light dimming as he became more depressed. "No one comes in to read, they would all rather party. No one likes to discuss great literature."

"I like to," said Paul, hoping to cheer up the ghost, and genuinely interested in the topic.

"No, no, no!" Ezra, Phineas, and Gus hissed, shaking their heads and waving their arms frantically. When they felt the librarian turn towards them, they hid their hands behind their backs and muttered, "Hey Mitlon," "What's up, Milton?" "How's the librarian business treating you, Milton?"

"You-you never said so before, sir," said Milton, clearly happy. "You usually just come in, grab a book, and leave. You never stay to chat." The lights brightened as his modd lifted. "Have you ever noticed any parallels in Ray Bradbury's and H. G. Wells's writing?"

"Yeah!" Paul agreed enthusiastically, plopping down into a dusty, purple rocking chair.

The three others groaned loudly. "Well," said Phineas optimistically, "it's better than having to worry about Atticus getting him."

A stack of books Milton had been holding dropped to the floor. "Atticus is back!"

"Yeah," replied Phineas. "Did you hear?"

"No, no one ever tells me anything!" Was he on the verge of tears? "George, what are you doing just standing here? Shouldn't you and Leota be taking care of this problem?"

"She seems to have it under control," said Paul pathetically.

* * *

"Tell me where it is!" demanded Atticus. A purple stream of magic burst forth from his palm, lifting Leota up off of the table and into the air. 

"Never!" Leota shouted back as she hovered near the ceiling.

"Put her down!" shrieked Little Leota, tugging on Thorn's robe. "Daddy, put her down now!"

Without looking, he smacked her away with his free hand, sending the small girl tumbling backwards. "You are not my child, you sickening little freak!" he spat.

Large, green eyes filling with tears, Little Leota trembled. She thought this situation over, seeing it simply as only a child could. Mommy was in trouble, and that person causing the trouble was daddy, who was being a very bad man. Just like Master Gracey had said. She liked Master Gracey and trusted him. Vainly, she wished he were here now, but he was gone and that Paul boy was in his place. Paul wasn't going to help them; he didn't understand even as much as she did, and he had probably been terrified after being flung out the window.

Frowning, she gritted her teeth in determination and got up. She bolted, running as fast as she could, aiming her transparent body at Thorn. Before she could tackle him, he flung back his arm. His eyes had never wavered from Leota, never moved, but he hit Little Leota and sent her flying through the door and out into the hallway. Reeling from the blow, but not actually hurting, she shook her head to chase away the dizziness. Quickly, she jumped back up and tried to run into her mother's seance room. She bounced off the door.

"How does it feel to be left out?" cackled Thorn from inside as Little Leota pounded her small fists on the door. It wasn't fair! She couldn't do anything!

Maybe she could...

Her father -that slimy, evil creature- was looking for something. Maybe she could find it and keep it hidden from him until Master Gracey returned. She had a feeling that if she found it, whatever it was, she would know. With renewed hope and a silent prayer for her mother, she began her search.

* * *

"I can't help thinking," George said as he and Leila took book after book out of the box, "that your father is in a very unusual line of work." He looked at the stacks of books around them. All of them had to do with ghosts and magic. 

"Was," she corrected. "And I don't know what he did exactly."

"Was he fired?"

She stopped and stared at him. He honestly didn't get it. "He died about four years ago."

"Oh." He blinked a few times and looked away, unure of what to say. "Sorry."

"You didn't know," she said in a flat tone. "It's okay."

After a short moment of silence, he said "If it's any consolation, I lost my father at a young age." She stopped pilfering to look up at him. He seemed torn between being genuinely sad and not caring. "My mother buried a hatchet in his head," he continued, as if it was normal conversation. "She found out he'd had an affair. After his death, I went off to boarding school, and she left."

"Who took care of you?" Leila asked, pausing to hear his story.

"An aunt, my mother's older sister. How did your father die?" The question was asked as if he was just inquiring about tomorrow's weather.

"The plane he was on crashed while flying to one of his business trips." She waited for a reply, but just got a noncommittal "Ah." She wondered if George knew what a plane was, but didn't ask. "Did you ever know something was going to happen before it happened?" she asked.

"You mean, like a foreboding feeling? A few times. Do you get it a lot?"

She nodded. "Yeah, that and deja-vu. This Thorn guy you mentioned makes me feel that way. I still don't know what I'm supposed to do about him, by the way."

"Leota tapped you for a reason," said George simply. "I think she made the right choice. There's something about you that's unsettling, you know."

She arched an eyebrow. "Excuse me?"

"It's true. There's an energy about you. It flickers in your eyes." He stared hard into her eyes, making her nervous. "It's a fierceness I've only ever seen in one other person."

"Who?" she whispered.

"Leota." He leaned back away from her; she hadn't realized they had been so close. If her mother had stepped in, it probably would have lead to a grounding.

She averted her attention down to the cardboard box. Lying at the bottom of it was the last book, an old laterbound volume. It was simply black, with no lettering or title on the front. The pages were yellowed and unevenly cut along the side. As she picked it up, she felt a jolt, like electricity, rush through her hand and up her arm. In her surprise, she almost dropped it.

"What is it?" asked George. His mouth dropped open. "I've seen this before!" he cried excitedly.

Leila opened the front cover very carefully, afraid it would tear off. On the first page it read in carefully handwritten script:

_The Journal of Sisters Alea and Leota Audley and Mr. Uriah Toombs  
The Brotherhood of Light  
_  
"Oh my god," whispered Leila. "Alea and Uriah...those are my great grandparents!"

Several spaces underneath of those names, in blue ink was:  
_Christopher and Rosa Toombs_

"They were my grandparents!" She knew what must come after that as her eyes scanned down towards the bottom of the page.

In much darker ink was:  
_Ashley Toombs_

"My dad."

* * *

A/N: Our sincere apologies for the delay in chapter putting-up-ness.

That stupid line button wouldn't work.


	8. The Journal

_October 13, 1855 _

_The Brotherhood of Light _

_Location: Liberty Square, New England – Gracey Manor _

_We fear the worst. Atticus has found our location, and where we have hidden the artifact. It is only a matter of time before he comes to this estate and searches for it – we suspect he'll be here in ten, twenty days. _

_The other residents no nothing of our true agenda. Leota is using her gifts to pose as a gypsy and fortune teller, we as her assistants. The master of the house, George Gracey, has kindly accepted us into his home, along with the many other inhabitants here. Unfortunately, we may be dooming them all…and ourselves…by selecting this location. But all of us sensed a strong aura in this house; a mystical presence. This house seems to be built on a spiritual nexus. It's full of magical energy. _

_Leota recently told me about a 'nexus' – it is a place that is exactly equal distance from the five elements; fire, water, earth, metal, and air. The house is surrounded by hot springs, the ocean, a small park, a large factory, and a geyser national monument. _

_Five elements. A spiritual nexus. _

_A source of immense power which could be used for good…and evil. _

_Alea Audley _

The young girl writing in the journal finished by signing her name; she was sitting in the backyard of the house. It was a beautiful sight – the endless hills, full of nothing but grass and flowers, had made Alea feel calm and relaxed. The sun shone brightly on them, and Alea wondered if they would still be this pristine and beautiful in the future.

She had a knack for looking at the big picture of things.

Alea slipped off the bench she was sitting on, her silky white dress blowing in the breeze, her long blond hair whipping behind her.

"Alea!" called a woman's voice. The young girl turned to see her older sister, Leota, calling her name.

"George has requested that we hold another séance…he has a feeling that today's the day," she said with a groan.

"When will that man learn that his dead grandmother does not want to speak with him?" Alea asked with a chuckle, "She's still dealing with that murderous mother of his."

Leota smirked. George had been trying to get in touch with his relatives for some bizarre reason, and luckily Leota, Alea and their companion Uriah had come into the picture.

But there was more to the story that George didn't realize; Alea, Leota and Uriah needed him, as well as the house.

What they were trying to hide they would never tell – George would be furious with Alea and the others, and if he wasn't he would just be an inconvenience, insisting he help them protect it.

Grinning, Leota and Alea headed into the house.

_Perhaps,_ Alea thought, _Things would finally work out after all. _

_

* * *

_

_  
November 1, 1855_

_The Brotherhood of Light _

_Location: In Hiding – cannot reveal location _

_Our worst fears came true last night. _

_Leota is gone. Dead, perhaps. Whatever her true fate is, I am not sure. But I do know she is a traitor. _

_Atticus arrived at the mansion. He was merciless; he began to kill everyone, left and right, even the coachman and his horse. He hung George Gracey from the gallery, and transformed the house. _

_It was invaded by ghosts, evil and good alike. The house has become a twisted shadow of what it had been, and I fear that everyone who was killed by Atticus is now trapped there as a ghost. _

_Alea and I barely escaped. But not before learning the awful truth. _

_Atticus was the father of Leota's daughter. Atticus revealed this to us before trying to destroy us, and Leota confessed. She claimed it was when she was allied with him, before she turned to the good side. But I do not believe her. She betrayed us by lying – this child could be filled with Atticus' evil - and I never want to see her again. _

_Alea is confident that Leota is innocent. Her only reasoning is that Leota told us to go while she held Atticus off. _

_I believe she did; I do not feel his evil essence anymore, and neither does Alea. _

_The artifact is safe…for now. But I will pass this journal through my family, and make sure that it's secret stays safe from the wrong hands. If we are lucky, we will never have to deal with Atticus again. _

_Uriah Toombs _

_

* * *

_

Leota tried every spell that she knew. She tried every incantation, every countercurse, and every rhyme that she could possibly think of. But it was no use. She was trapped in this crystal ball. Possibly forever.

At least Atticus was gone. And she still had her daughter.

But she was dead…wasn't she? Perhaps trapped in some weird limbo, between life and death. Leota realized that she was going to have a lot of time on her hands.

She thought about everyone else that Atticus had killed, all of the innocent people. Were they still in shock, hovering above their dead bodies in horror? Would they blame her for their unessecary demise?

At least they could move. She seemed completely powerless in the crystal ball, which was held in place by a pedestal. Perhaps she could just roll to get around…

Her thoughts were interrupted by someone stumbling through the séance room door…literally.

George Gracey, looking very perplexed, staggered into the room. Upon realizing he had walked through a door, he spun around quickly, as if to confirm it. He lost his balance and caught himself with his right heel, flailing his arms as he hopped backwards. Crashing into Leota's table, he sent the ball flying into the air. He reached out to grab it, but it went through his transparent hands and, luckily, landed on a crumpled tapestry that had fallen off the wall during Leota's fight with Atticus. The newly made ghost peered down at the glowing green orb. Upon seeing Leota's face, his bright blue eyes widened in fear.

"Leota?" he asked, confused, "Is that you? What's going on?" He tried to pick up the ball, but his hands kept going through it. "And this is really annoying," he grunted in frustration.

The gypsy sighed. "Focus first. Imagine them as solid." It took him five more times, but he managed to pick up the sphere long enough to carry it back. Concentrating hard, Leota was able to make the table right itself before George put her back on her pedestal. "Dropped" may have been more of a correct term, but she knew the poor man was getting used to the whole being dead thing. Looking up at him, she realized that she had never seen him look so...lost. She had often witnessed him smug and arrogant, as he was when dealing with any business affair. Or wistful and enthusiatic, the way he acted during her seances. But she had never seen him so frightened before. With his pale lips pursed with worry, his brow furrowed in confusion, and his eyes wide, he reminded her of a child who has just experienced the death of a loved one for the first time.

He wrung his hands for a moment, trying to think of what to say, but soon became distracted and a bit horrified when he looked down to see them moving in and out of each other. Shoulders slumped, he let his arms dangle by his sides. "I don't remember much," he began. "Just pain and then..." He gestured to himself. "This." Leota could see tears flood his brilliant eyes. His normally regal voice quavered as he asked, "What happened?"

"Um…" Leota stammered. Should she tell him the truth?

"Everyone in the mansion has been killed," she said slowly, "by a man named Atticus Thorn." George's eyes widened.

"But why?"

Leota looked sympathetically at the poor soul, trapped and perplexed. She wanted to tell him everything, to tell SOMEone, but it was too risky.

"It…was my fault," Leota said, sighing heavily. "We had a bad history together…and he came looking for revenge."

George looked at the woman trapped in the crystal ball for several minutes, trying to comprehend the situation.

"…I'm sorry," he said finally.

"No. I'm the one who's sorry," Leota whispered softly. George quietly left the room, and tears started to appear in her eyes.

This was all her fault – if only she had cast the right spell, used the proper curses - and she would have eternity to pay for it. But so would hundreds of others who didn't deserve this fate.

And that was her biggest mistake of all.

* * *

Leila read some of the journal entries quietly while George kept looking at himself in the mirror. 

"It's just so strange, you know?" he said, breaking the silence. Leila pulled herself away from the book to look at him.

"What?"

"Being in this body…being like this," he said, holding out his hands. Leila suddenly realized how much George was going through. To her it was still Paul's familiar face, just someone else behind it. But to George, it was a whole new world.

"Oh," Leila said awkwardly, not knowing how to respond, "…yeah."

George tugged slightly at his new long brown hair that went down to his neck. He adjusted the glasses, and then turned to Leila.

"Find anything?"

"Yeah," she said, looking back in the book, "and it looks like this 'Madame Leota' person is my Great-Great-Aunt." She was suddenly reminded of the movie _The Emperor's New Groove_, where Tipo was jump roping and talking to Yzma. A smile flittered across her face as George looked surprised at the news.

"Amazing."

"Yep. It's a small world."

"What about Atticus? Does it say anything about why he's at the mansion?"

"Well," Leila said, flipping some pages, "It says that he was looking for something hidden there…but I haven't found what it is yet. I hope the information didn't get destroyed or anything."

"Maybe we should head to the mansion and ask Leota," George suggested.

"Well, maybe-" Leila started, but was interrupted by the clock downstairs chiming.

It was seven 'o clock.

"What?" She gasped, counting the chimes and looking at her wristwatch, "It's seven already?"

George's face fell. "I guess this means that we can't go today?"

"Sorry…" Leila muttered, "Mom's really strict about dinner time. She says it's the only day we have as a family, and where we talk to each other about our days…y'know."

"I understand."

"Hey! Maybe you could join us for dinner?" Leila suggested.

"Er…I don't know," George said. The tension between him and Mrs. Toombs had already almost caused a slip up…what if another one happened?

"Oh, don't worry about it. Paul's parents are out of town, it'll be fine."

George smiled.

"Leila, if I were sent to any other body of a nerdy teenager to send a message to any other psychic…" he started to say, but Leila interrupted him.

"Say no more," she said with a grin, "You need me, don't you George. You'd be a ship lost in a storm without me. An exploration team lost in a jungle. A man lost in the woman's department of a-" she was cut short by Leila's mother hollering to come down for dinner.

"Let's go," Leila said, and the two headed downstairs.


	9. Etiquette

Upon entering the dining room, George's mouth--or Paul's mouth, whichever, he didn't care, he was ravenous--was watering. The scent of chicken filled the air, along with mashed potatoes, and corn and...Could it be? Yes it was! Pumpkin pie! His temporary stomach growled loudly, and Leila giggled. George grinned back at her sheepishly and sat down to eat.

As the other two started chatting about something, George tuned them out and licked his lips as he stared greedily down at his food. It had been so long since he had tasted...anything. With ectasy, he inhaled the aromas one last time before he decided to dig in. He stopped suddenly as a blank look washed over his features. Did one use a spoon for potatoes? No, that couldn't be right, could it? And what about the drumstick? Did he just pick that up? He didn't look up at the women; they would notice how unsure he was. He stared at his fork. Surely this wasn't the right tool for corn kernals.

When he was a young boy, his mother had spent hours training him, teaching him which piece of silverware to use with what type of food. All of those lessons seemed to have been wiped from his memory as he gazed over the plate and utensils.

"Paul, are you okay?" asked Mrs. Toombs worriedly.

He looked up. Leila was gazing at him with a look that pleaded "Please don't act too weird!"

George looked back down at the plate and picked up his fork. "Yeah, I'm fine. Sorry. I was just... thinking about something." He tried to grin reassuringly. Awkwardly, stabbed a bit of chicken off of the drumstick with his fork and put it in his mouth. The savory spices on the skin made his tastebuds tingle. Fortunately, he stopped himself before he would have moaned with joy. It was exquisite! He swallowed.

The meat caught in his throat and he realized that he had forgotten a very important thing about eating: chewing. Gagging, he tried to swallowing it down with some tea. When that didn't work he jumped up and hit his chest with his fist.

"George!" screamed Leila as she sprang up.

"George?" asked Mrs. Toombs with an arched eyebrow.

Leila ran up to the choking boy, wrapped her arms around him, and performed the heimlich maneuver. The bit of food finally came up, flew from his mouth, and hit a nearby wall with a sickening splat.

"You okay?" asked Leila.

Panting, George nodded. "Forgot how to chew," he muttered pathetically. "That was a bit of a faux pas, huh?" They both grinned nervously at Mrs. Toombs and sat back down.

"You two are acting odd today," commented the brunette.

"I'm not quite feeling myself," George grinned as he took another bite of chicken. This time he chewed.

* * *

"I thought we'd never drag you out of there," groaned Phineas. 

"I am a literary conisseur," Paul replied. "'Sides, Milton was nice. A bit obsessive and neurotic, but nice." He walked along with his three ghost friends for a moment before asking, "Should I be worried about this Atticus dude? What's his problem? Why's everyone so afraid of him?"

After mulling it over worriedly, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus turned to him. The skinnest of the three finally said, "We might not be the best people to ask. We were just mooching--er, staying here as welcomed guests--when it happened."

"It was like he appeared out of nowhere," Phineas continued the story. "He was yelling about Leota and just stormed through the house looking for her."

"He was searchin' for somethin' else, too," Gus added quietly. He lowered his voice for dramatic effect. "Something magic."

Ezra took it from there, bizarrely serious. "Anyone who happened to walk out of a door as he went past, any servant who asked him if he needed help...they were just butchered." He scowled, furious at the memory. Paul could imagine Milton and Prudence, going about their duties, just as they did everyday; suddenly a shadow loomed behind them and pale, clawed hands clasped over their mouths and around their throats. "There were three people who knew who he was and knew he would be coming. They gave us no warning whatsoever."

"They did try to save us, though," the chubbiest chimed in. "Two of them got away. Madame Leota and her daughter... well, they weren't so lucky."

"He murdered that little girl?" Paul cried, disgusted. Anger flared within him at the thought. His own sister was about that child's age. True, Penelope was a brat, but he would never want to harm her, even during her worst tantrums.

As he thought this over, Paul asked, "He was the one who killed Gracey, right?"

He was answered with solemn nods.

"He hanged him from the gallery rafters," Phineas explained. "Atticus said he was 'in the way'. Don't know what he meant by that exactly. Poor George. Took a while to get him out of his post-mortum depression."

Suddenly, Little Leota went running past, her white skirt and long hair flailing behind her, her feet pounding but not actually touching the ground.

"What's up with you?" Ezra called out.

She came to an abrubt halt and whipped around. She didn't know that her three friends knew about Paul. "Um, not much. Just going for a relaxing run, that's all." Gus, Phineas, and Ezra arched their eyebrows in disbelief. Little Leota was a terrible liar. She looked from them to Paul, wondering if they knew the truth. True, the trio may have been a touch on the crazy side, and were problem gamblers, and had a bad habit of picking people's pockets and then getting caught in the act, but they weren't exactly stupid. They were also Master Gracey's best friends. They would have figured out pretty quickly that it wasn't him.

Right?

Could she take that chance?

"It's my mom. She's in trouble. Da--Atticus keeps yelling about something, and if I can find it, maybe I can save her."

"Do you have any clue about what he's searching for?" asked Paul, wanting to help.

The psychic's daughter shook her head. "Please don't tell anyone!" she pleaded. "We can't have the others knowing. I don't want to scare them!"

"Don't worry about that," muttered Ezra.

"Yeah," chirped Gus, "we're already keeping a secret." Phineas and Ezra glared at him and put their hands over his mouth as he mumbled.

Green eyes widening, she gasped, "You do know, don't you? About Mr. Gracey?"

The three nodded and the half-brothers let go of the dwarf. "Your mom sure picked a winner here," Ezra said sarcastically. "We just had to sit through an hour of the history of Ray Bradbury."

Little Leota giggled as Paul stuck his tongue out at him. "Why don't you four help me look?"

"Sounds good," said Paul. "Where to first?"

Furrowing her brow, the dainty child thought hard. "Upstairs, in the attic. There's ton of junk up there."

Phineas and Ezra cast leery looks to each other. "You mean," the fat phantom asked, "visit...Sophia?"

"Not her!" cried Ezra. "She's crazier than Gus!" He pointed to the shortest, who was spinning the metal ball around his ankle and trying to jump over it with the other leg like one a Skip-it.

"We can't," the bony ghost continued, "expose our new friend to that!" He put an arm around Paul's shoulders and hugged him to him. "You see our dilemma."

Little Leota put her hands on her hips and scowled. "You're just a bunch of cowards!"

At once, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus shrugged. "So?" they asked.

Paul let out a frustrated sigh and broke away from Ezra's grasp. "I'll help."

Beaming, the girl thanked him and they started to walk away. Phineas turned to his brother. "Might as well..."

"Yeah," Ezra grumbled, shoving his hands into his pockets. "You coming, Gus?"

"One-one thousand..." Jump. "Two-one thousand... just a sec!" Before he could clear the chain again, Ezra grabbed his beard and started dragging him along.

They wouldn't be able to go straight to the attic, however, due to the large crowd that was gathered outside of George's study. "There he is!" cried a ghost, and the mob headed towards them.

* * *

George pushed himself away from the table, stomach too full to get up. "What a spectacular meal, Mrs. Toombs!" He had eaten two drumsticks, half a plate of potatoes, and three slices of pie. He just finished his second glass of tea. 

"Paul," exclaimed Leila's mother, wide-eyed, "I've never seen you eat so much before! Have your parents been starving you?" she joked.

He smiled, feeling embarrassed. "I'm a growing boy," he answered, and hiccuped.

Suddenly, there was a low, chiming sound coming from the back pocket of the baggy jeans he was wearing. Perplexed, he glanced around, wondering if anyone else had heard it.

"That's your phone," explained Leila, as if Paul was just scatterbrained. "Back pocket, remember?"

"Oh, yeah." Then just for good measure he added a phrase that he'd heard at school. "Duh." Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a small, silver contraption that flipped open to reveal a bright screen and numbered buttons. Above the screen where two little slivers that a scratchy, old voice eminnated from. "Paulie, boy, is that you?"

George blinked, amazed. "Yeah?"

"Hey, it's your granny. I need you to come by and pick up Penelope and take her home. I'd bring her with me, but they don't like young 'uns at the Bingo hall."

"Okay."

"Great! I'll see you in a few, shug." She hung up.

Guessing it was the right thing to do, George closed the cell phone and tucked it into his pocket. Confused, he picked up his plate and followed Leila and her mom into the kitchen. "You kids wouldn't mind cleaning up, would you? I've got some paperwork to finish."

"Not a problem, mom," Leila called over her shoulder as she turned on the sink. George stared at her blankly. "What?" the blond asked. "You've never cleaned dishes before?" She blinked in surprise as he shook his head. "You were a spoiled kid."

Mimicking her, he began scrubbing a plate. "I was an aristocrat. I had servants to do all of the chores."

"Spoiled and lazy, huh?"

He chuckled. "I suppose so. Odd how times have changed." He scowled. "That woman on the cell phone told me I had to pick up someone named Penelope."

"Oh, that's Paul's little sister. While his parents are away, she's being watched by your--Paul's--grandmother. It's your job to pick her up at night, take her home, and tuck her in. Then, before school, grandma picks her up and babysits her for the day."

"Sounds easy enough."

"Right," Leila muttered sarcastically. Sometimes, she reminded George of Ezra. She grabbed a sheet of paper out of her pocket, a pencil that was lying ont he counter, and scribbled down some notes. "Here's the directions." She handed them to him. Remember what I taught you about driving. Keep your eyes on the road."

"Right." He walked out of the kitchen.

"Oh, and Paul." She made sure to use the name in case her mother overheard.

"Yes?"

"Try not to kill Penelope."

With a confused departing glance, he left.


	10. Bedtime Tales and Bridal Veils

Remembering everything Leila had taught him, George managed to get to and park Paul's car in the driveway of his house.

He unlocked the front door with the key, and was greeted by the sight of a young red haired girl clammering down the staircase near the door.

"Geez Paul," she said in a high voice that suggested she was about ten or eleven, "You're awfully late. Been hanging out with your girlfriend?" She emphasised the word 'girlfriend' and wiggled her eyebrows.

"She's not Pau-…my…girlfriend," George said, trying to figure out how to lock the door. He managed to get it as the little girl scampered into the kitchen.

George looked around at Paul's house. The interior was pretty simple, with family portraits hanging throughout the house. The place wasn't decorated as unusually as Leila's, but it was still nice. There was a couch and a large black device sitting some feet away from it to his left. George stared at it curiously, and went over to inspect the strange device.

He saw that there were buttons underneath what looked like a shiny window. One said "Power," and George pressed it.

The TV suddenly blared on, and George jumped back with a start, spooked.

"Next, on Nova: Ghosts and Supernatural Beings – Do they really exist?" a woman's voice said from it, and George peered at the screen, trying to find out where it was coming from.

All of a sudden, the box turned off by itself, and George heard Penelope's voice.

"Well?"

"…Well what?" He asked, turning to her.

"It's eight 'o clock! Time for my bedtime story!" the girl said in a whiny voice that reminded George of Little Leota.

"Er-…Okay," George said, and Penelope, who had changed into pink flanel pajamas, scampered up the steps. The newly-appointed older brother followed obediently, not knowing the layout of the house and having this girl as his guide.

When they got to Penelope's room, George's first reaction was that a flamingo had exploded in it. Everything was pink. Pink walls, pink bedspread, pink curtains, and even cushy pink carpeting. Penelope jumped onto her pink bed, grabbed her pink bunny, and snuggled under the covers.

"Okay, what's it going to be tonight?" she asked in a bossy tone, "Make it something interesting!"

A gleam appeared in George's eye. Oh, he had an interesting story…

"Do you like ghost stories?" George asked the girl. She nodded.

"Of course I do. I'm not a sissy like you," Penelope said smartly.

"Touche," George remarked with a smile. He began to tell her the most horrific, terrible ghost story he could think of:

His.

For nearly half an hour he spoke to Paul's sister, recalling the events of his and the other residents' deaths. He told her about the battle between Atticus and Leota, and how the 'master of the house' was killed by being hung in the rafters.

"And to this day…the ghosts still haunted the mansion. Actually, there are nine-hundred and ninety nine of them…" he paused here and stared right at the young girl's wide eyes, "…but there's room for a thousand."

He stood up and went to the door.

"Well…good night!" he said cheerfully, and shut the lights off, leaving the poor girl alone in the darkness, shaking from fear.

Now that he had the whole house to himself, George wondered what he should do.

It was eight thirty. Leila had advised him to go to bed at ten, so he could be well rested for tomorrow. But that wasn't what was on his mind at the moment; he headed downstairs and faced the large talking box.

"We meet again," George said dramatically. He chuckled and headed over to it, his eyes flitting over the various pictures on his way to the couch. All of a sudden, a series of pictures caught his eye and made him stop.

They were all of a boy, and seemed to age from left to right. The most recent of them seemed to be one of a boy with spiky hair, thick black glasses and a goofy smile revealing shiny braces. George was just about to laugh at the nerdy looking kid when he realized it was Paul. He quickly stopped himself and headed to the couch.

Turning on the TV, he began to watch the Ghost program that he'd seen earlier. George made fun of every incorrect assumption about ghosts for hours, and when the show was finally over he looked at a nearby clock.

"Eleven thirty!" he gasped, "I need to get some sleep!" As he headed upstairs, he realized that he felt something he hadn't felt in ages: exhaustion.

George tiredly walked up to Paul's room and fell asleep as soon as he hit the bed.

* * *

While the rest of the town slept however, the Haunted Mansion was a center of bustling activity. Ghosts of all sorts crowded around Paul in George's ghost, demanding answers and explanations.

"What's Atticus doing here!"

"Why haven't you gotten rid of him?"

"How come you and Leota aren't doing anything?"

"Please," Paul gasped nervously, "We're trying to, um…take control of the situation, and Leota and I are…working on a spell that will stop Atticus!" he finished quickly to try to stop the mobbing. He glanced at his three friends with a look that said 'Help me!' and they came to the rescue.

"Okay people, nothin' to see here, your complaints are being registered one at a time, please take a number!" Ezra instructed while Phineas pulled a ticket counter out of his bag. The ghosts quickly lined up behind it and began to take numbers.

"Bloody hell!" Paul heard someone yell from the back of the line. It was a thick British accent, and Paul headed over to see who it was, as well as to escape from the crowd.

At the very end of the line was a ghost wearing a top hat and tuxedo with a burgundy silk vest. He had a very disgruntled look on his face, and when he saw Paul come over he smiled sheepishly at him.

"Nine hundred and ninety-nine," he said lamely, holding his little ticket. Paul held back a laugh and smiled at the British ghost. All of a sudden he heard a bunch of ghosts shouting his name and looking for him, so he quickly left the area of his study and through the house.

Paul had to find somewhere to hide, not only from Atticus but from the angry residents! He wasn't really looking where he was going, and soon found himself in a part of the house that he'd never seen before.

In front of him was a long rickety staircase with a door at the top. It seemed pretty innocent, but Paul could swear he heard a low thud coming from it, like someone had the bass cranked up on their stereo.

Figuring it was a safe place to hide, Paul hurried up the stairs and opened the door. He had found the attic.

It was by far the most cluttered attic he had ever seen. Paul actually had to walk through things to get through the room; he suspected that, had he been mortal, he could never navigate through the attic.

Paul followed the low thumping and it got louder and louder…he realized he had nothing to worry about, being already dead, but being the nervous type he was the boy was hesitant to follow the unnerving noise. When he discovered what the source of the low, continuous beat was, he was taken aback: it was a woman.

A bride, to be exact. Paul couldn't see her face; she was wearing a long veil, and an exquisite white lace dress. He could see through the dress that there was a faint red glow coming from where her heart was…or was supposed to be, maybe.

It was the thumping. The bride's heart was beating, nonstop, even though she was dead.

"Uh…excuse me," he said, clearing his throat. The bride turned, and he saw her face.

She was young, and had very pale white skin. Her eyes were silver, but seemed to glow in the eerie light. She was wearing blush and rose red lipstick, and looked as if she was ready to walk down the aisle at any moment.

"George?" the woman asked with a gasp. She jumped up and hugged Paul tightly. If he was alive, all of the wind would've been knocked out of him by her force.

"I've been waiting for you for so long…where have you been?" the woman asked, pulling away. She ran a thin finger down Paul's cheek lovingly.

"Uh…er…" Paul stammered. He certainly hadn't expected this. What should he do?

"What's wrong George? Don't you recognize me?" the woman asked, backing up. There was moonlight shining through a nearby window, and when the bride backed into it, Paul gasped with horror.

In the moonlight, her beautiful skin became a dark blue color, and looked like it had been rotting for some time. The girl's eyes vanished, leaving only glowing yellow eye sockets. Her hair turned a brilliant white, and her hands became skeletal with bits of flesh still attatched.

Paul stared at this poor soul, seemingly trapped between life and death. He continued to back up uncertainly, stumbling through an assortment of old junk. The bride walked towards him, and once out of the moonlight, returned to her seemingly corporeal self.

"Where're you going?" she asked, taking steps toward him, also walking through things.

"Er…I…it's just…there's something…downstairs…er…" He faltered, realizing he didn't know the girl's name.

"Sophia," the bride said with a sad smile, "Don't you remember? But I suppose that since it's been so long…"

She seemed crestfallen. Paul watched as a tear fell from her eye.

Maybe his reaction had been too hasty. He didn't mean to hurt her feelings.

"Er…yeah, I remember," Paul said, stopping, "but…it has been a long time…why don't you tell me what happened again?"

He sat down on a box after falling through it the first try, and Sophia giggled and joined him. She began to reaccount her tale of anguish, romance, and tragedy.


	11. Laments

"Life is such a corruptible state, isn't it George?" asked Sophia softly. "At least, that's what you used to always say." She smiled shyly at Paul and he found himself drawn into those silver eyes. Her voice, so soft and quiet, made him lean in closer and strain to hear. "I always secretly loved that morbid sense of humor."

"A-heh," Paul squeaked back in reply.

"And it's so true too," she added sadly. "I remember how excited I was before the wedding. Or rather, right before we would have had the wedding." Those moonlight eyes glazed over, staring off into some far distant memory. "The courier from the bridal shop had just brought the dress over." She looked down at her gown, admiring it for a moment. "He left to let me try it on... I rushed up here because the mirror in my room was filthy." She laughed, a sound like twinkling notes. "Little Leota was playing with my make-up and got powder all over the glass. She was such a curious child.

"So, after pushing past some of the junk and finding a decent mirror, I tried it on. Oh," she sighed, "I felt so beautiful! I wanted you to see it, but you know that old superstition." She winked.

"I was about to put my regular clothes back on when the screaming started." Staring down at her high heels, her look of joyful reflection quickly turned to one of fear. "I didn't know what to do. I thought, 'Should I stay and hide and hope that once it's over I can run for help? Or do I flee? Should I see if there's anything I can do?' But it didn't matter. I was so terrified I just stayed rooted to the spot. And then I heard these boots clomping up the stairs. Terror filled me and I hid behind one of the boxes.

"My heart was pounding." With the organ glowing crimson beneath her gown, Paul could see Sophia's heart pulsating. It was louder now than it had been when he entered the attic. "Then the door creaked open slowly and he stepped in."

"Who?" whispered Paul.

"Atticus!" she cried, too caught up in the memory to realize that he should have known this. "He strode into the room, looking, searching for something! I crouched down, curling up as tightly as I could, begging, praying he wouldn't find me. I don't know how, but I knew he was evil! I tried to shut my eyes as tightly as I could, but I couldn't keep them closed." Her heart beat quickened. "And then he stopped in the middle of the attic, smiling so smugly. He made this little noise in his throat, like a chuckle, and hissed, 'I know you're in here.'"

Wrapping her arms around herself, she slowly rocked back and forth. Tears filled her eyes and streamed down her pale cheeks. "He said, 'I hear your heart pounding. Why are you so afraid when you don't even know what I've done? Or did you guess by the screams?' Then he began to walk around, peering casually into the trunks. Then he sniffed the air, like a wolf on the trail of a deer. He could smell my perfume, that lovely vanilla scent you had given to me for Christmas.

"He walked past me, and I thought I was going to be okay. With his back to me, I sprang up and bolted. No sooner than I had gotten half way to the door, I was suddenly yanked back. I screamed in pain as he pulled me to him by my hair.

"He held up my face, studying me." Sophia trembled. "He stroked that horrible, bony, cold hand across my cheek and said, 'What a ravishing bride you are. It would be such a shame to destroy you.' He had such a horrible smirk on his face, George! He looked down at me with those stabbing eyes. 'Come with me,' he commanded. I refused, told him that I loved you and that you would make him pay.

"And he laughed like a maniac. Giggling, he sputtered, 'You think your dear George is going to come to your rescue, like a knight on horseback after his princess? He's dead, girl'.

"I didn't believe him. I screamed that he was a liar. Dragging me, he took me to the very center of the attic, right above the gallery. With a few kicks, he knocked out some of the floor boards so I could see into the room below. He shoved my face down right next to the noose tied around the beam. Told me to get a good look." The ghostly girl sobbed. "And there you were, hanging by the rope.

"He asked me again if I wanted to live. I told him no, that I would rather be dead than the companion of that wretched monster. He slapped me hard, nearly knocking me off my feet. Then, he grabbed me and pushed me into that trunk." She nodded to the one Paul was sitting on.

Paul sprang up and his stomach lurched. "So you suffocated?" he asked.

Sophia nodded. "As I was running out of air, I heard him cry a curse. If he couldn't have me, no man would ever find me desirable. That's why I'm the way I am today." Standing up, she smiled at him. "But now that you've finally come here..."

The young man stood there nervously, unsure of what to do as the former bride to be approached him. The rhythmic heart beat and her eyes had him entranced. He couldn't move. Didn't want to move. She put one hand on the back of his head, running her fingers through his hair.

"Wha--what are you doing?" he stammered. He couldn't ask again before she kissed him. So this is what's it's like, he thought. Never thought my first kiss would be with a ghost-- His eyes suddenly snapped open at the realization of what was happening. He stepped back quickly, stumbling out of her grasp.

"What's wrong?" she asked. "I thought you missed me." She bit her lower lip and twirled her hair worriedly. "Don't you still love me?"

Panicking, Paul struggled to think of what to say. His first instinct was to tell the truth, but the poor woman would probably be humiliated. He had a sneaking suspicion that George would be furious when he found out that Paul had been playing the "tongue tango" with his fiancée.

Luckily, he was saved from having to think of an excuse when Phineas, Ezra, and Gus ran into the room. "We'll save ya!" cried Phineas as they barged in. When they saw that Sophia and Paul were just standing there, albeit very closely, but just standing there, the three stopped short.

"We were... just...talking," Paul sputtered.

"Sure you were," drawled Ezra sarcastically. "Little Leota is taking care of the crowd."

"We was worried," said Gus, looking at Sophia fearfully.

Phineas smiled. "Why don't we continue our tour?" he asked Paul. Sophia let out a heavy sigh and dragged herself to some dark corner of the attic, not in the mood to compete for her true love's affection.

"But what about--" started Paul.

Ezra clamped a hand over his mouth. "How are we going to find something if we don't even know what it is, or if it exists? 'Sides, she's going to know what's going on. We don't need anybody else finding out who you're not." He removed his hand and wiped it on his coat.

"What did you have in mind?" asked Paul.

The plumpest grinned. "The ballroom."

Ezra rolled his bulging eyes. "You just want to chat up the unbirthday girl."

Phineas snapped his fingers and his carpetbag appeared at his side. He pulled a small bottle out of it and squirted the atomizer, spraying a fine, minty smelling mist into his mouth. "So?"

Paul looked at Sophia. She seemed so lonely and depressed. "Why don't you join us?" he asked.

She turned to face them and the moonlight caught her cheek, displaying torn flesh and bone. Ezra seemed to be trying very hard to look as if he wasn't dry heaving. "I'd love to!" she cried joyously. She ran to Paul and wrapped her arms tightly around him. "I haven't been out of here in ages!"

He smiled at Ezra, Phineas, and Gus and shrugged a shoulder. Phineas and Ezra didn't say a word. Gus giggled gleefully and dashed out ahead of them, and the others followed.

* * *

"You're not going to find it," Madame Leota smirked coolly as Atticus tossed aside a box of her old clothing.

He turned around, a frightening sight. His nostrils were flared and his gray eyes blazed with a ferocity usually reserved for rabid lions. Clenching and unclenching his fists, he strode over to her. "Tell me and maybe I'll let you stay by my side, unharmed. I'll even..." His pale, thin lips curled up into a sly smile, "give you back a body. Think about it, Leota." He traced the shape of her face on the glass surface of her prison. "We could have it be just like old times." He chuckled darkly.

She swiveled her head away from him, making her dark hair swirl as if she were under water. Biting back any sharp retort, she remained silent.

"I've been a good boy, haven't I?" he asked. "I've refrained from destroying this house, which I'm increasingly wanting to do," he snarled. "Really the worst I've done is humiliate that spoiled brat Gracey!" He walked around the crystal ball and bent down so that he was eye level with her. In a breathy, hissing voice, he whispered, "I could do much, much worse, my dear. I've been stuck in the bowels of the underworld for a very, very long time, Leota. Sitting in my prison, guarded by those Order of Light buffoons, I had plenty of opportunity to think."

He started to pace around the table and Leota got dizzy trying to watch him. "I got to thinking, if we combined our powers... well, the possibilities could be endless. But the one thing that could stop me, and the one thing that could certainly give my magic a boost, is hidden!" He slammed his fists down on the table. "It might wise if--" He was cut off by the most unusual sound coming from the ballroom...

* * *

Paul finished the song on the organ with a grand flourish. "What do you call that piece?" asked the organist as he applauded.

"I call that the "Star Wars" theme." Paul sniffed proudly.

"Play something else!" the others cheered. Paul grinned.

It wasn't long before the whole ballroom was dancing to "Thriller".

* * *

"It seems as if they're celebrating," sneered Atticus. "It's time I put those happy haunts in their places..." The ends of his fingers tingled as magic surged forth. He traced a circle in the air with his fingernail. A bright, glowing purple ring appeared, and it soon became a swirling red vortex. Three wraiths flew out and stood, grinning maniacally. All were hunched, snarling, and wide-eyed, although whether it was due to insanity or fear it wasn't certain. "Emmet Totts, Silas Grunge, and Felicia Scratch," Thorn greeted the ghouls. "How are my favorite minions tonight?"

"Better now that we're here with you, master," Felicia groveled. Her greasy, stringy hair fell over her face. Most of those locks, Leota thought, looked like spider webs.

Emmet wrung his hands worriedly. "Why did you call us forth, sir?" His bulging eyes darted around the room, making him look even more paranoid.

"There's a grand party going on," the warlock said, using the same tone endorsed by kindergarten teachers the world over.

"You want us to liven it up?" asked Silas, the self proclaimed leader of the group. His red eyes blazed and he trembled in anticipation. He licked his lips. They could hardly be called lips. It was really just the bit of thin flesh around his skull like grin.

"You're such smart little Hellions!" Atticus gushed with fake affection. With pride, he watched them fly out of the room. "That should make things a bit more interesting. Now," he turned to Leota, "where were we?..."


	12. A Little Bit of Magic

Leila awoke to the golden sun peaking over the horizon. Sunlight streamed through her window, and for a second she wondered if everything she had experienced yesterday was a dream.

That fantasy was rudely shattered by a loud crashing noise coming from downstairs.

The girl looked at her clock. 7:45. She'd overslept.

Throwing off the covers, she looked out her window, which was facing the front of the house. She saw Paul…or rather, George…had accidentally hit her garbage cans with Paul's car, and was now trying to put them back where they were. She smiled, thankful that her mother had already left for work, and quickly got dressed.

Leila, a brilliant multitasker, grabbed a pop-tart, her purse and schoolbag, and put her hair up in a ponytail all at the same time. As she closed the front door with her foot, pop-tart in her mouth, hands preoccupied with her hair, George finished with the garbage.

"Sorry I'm late," he said, exasperated, "I was watching the glowing box last night, and I wasn't used to sleeping-" Leila interrupted him.

"It's fine…I'm not exactly Ms. Punctuality myself," she said with the pastry still in her mouth.

Paul and Leila managed to get to school on time, and the day began. George was fascinated at how times had changed; when he was in school, he would've gotten a slap on the wrist with a ruler for misbehaving. Kids these days just got something called 'de-ten-shun.' Leila was thankful that she and Paul had practically every class together, so she could control him and make sure he didn't act too weird.

But when history rolled around again, the happenings of yesterday afternoon flooded back to Leila. She hastily walked into history with Paul, and they took seats in the back. This turned out to be a bad mood though; many kids joked loudly about how they wanted to 'be alone' and things like that. The teasing subsided, however, when Mr. Coats passed back the tests.

"Very good, Paul," the teacher said, with a hint of surprise in his voice, "98 percent. You would've gotten them all correct, had you not answered 'it's still going on' for the question asking when slavery ended." George blushed.

"Thank you," he said, taking the test with pride. Leila gawked at him.

"How did you do so well?" she whispered after Mr. Coats had passed. The boy shrugged.

"All of this was happening when I was alive," he said simply.

* * *

As Leila and George left school, she suddenly realized something.

"It's Halloween."

George checked Paul's watch, which had one of those date counters in it.

"Well what do you know? It is."

"Do you like, get to fly around and scare people on Halloween? Or is that a stereotype?"

"Well, actually," George said thoughtfully, "We do get more visitors around Halloween…and of course, Madame Leota's powers increase…" George stopped walking and sat on a bench on the school grounds. Leila joined him, putting her stuff on the ground.

"Each year during Halloween, Leota would always grow stronger. Probably because of the magical connections with the holiday. She would be able to cast a spell to let us leave the mansion…you see, normally we can't go past the grounds."

"Some of us would go off and 'haunt' people, just for fun. But others would return to their homes, and see family…or rather, what was left of their family. Relatives, cherished ones, long dead, able to move on to heaven or to hell, while we were stuck here in between."

George sighed.

"I remember the time on one Halloween when I went back to where my father lived…he was the captain of a ship, the 'Magnolia.' Died at sea. His mansion in New Orleans was taken over by pirates, and I couldn't bear to see it treated that way. I moved here and built my manor, with the money my father left me."

"The one time I went to see his grave…so many years after his death…I broke down. I knew that he had moved on, was in a better place, while I was still stuck here, an anomaly, a being that shouldn't be. Since that day, I've never left the mansion…until now, that is," he added.

Leila stared at George sadly. She couldn't imagine what it must be like…trapped here, without being able to see your friends, without moving on…

"I'm so sorry," she whispered.

The two sat on the bench in silence as the autumn leaves slowly fell to the ground.

* * *

The wraiths flew into the ballroom and spotted George. He seemed to be talking to three other ghosts in a corner, trying to appear inconspicuous.

"Secrets don't make friends!" Felicia shrieked to her two companions.

"I agree!" Silas said, "We better go make sure that they're not plotting anything dangerous."

"Oh no! What if they're planning to kill me!?" Emmet gasped, "Everyone's out to get me, I just know it!" His huge eyes stared shiftily at the ghosts.

The three became invisible and silently floated down to overhear the conversation.

"What's wrong? Can't I play Star Wars?" George asked the others, confused.

"Not if you want to be found out," Ezra said in a hushed voice.

"Yeah…if the ghosts…or even worse, Atticus…finds out that you're not really George, we're in trouble."

"Yeah, we're all…" Gus said, pausing to find the right word, "as you mortals say, bolted!"

Paul stared at the ghost.

"You mean screwed."

"That too!"

The poltergeists above them gasped.

"On a side note, if your friend doesn't come help us soon, we're DEFINITELY screwed," Ezra added.

"Don't worry…I'm sure Leila's coming…she wouldn't just leave me here," Paul said reassuringly, more to himself than the others. They continued to chat, but the three evil spooks flew away with excitement.

"So…it's a fake George, eh?" Silas mused as they found a safe place to talk without being heard.

"I KNEW he was an imposter! He had that look in his eye!" Emmet bellowed loudly.

"Let's go find this girl, pay her a visit," Felicia suggested, "And maybe we can convince her to stay away from our new home."

The other ghosts nodded in agreement, and flew out the large ballroom windows. They, unlike the other ghosts, were not under the mansion's curse, and could go anywhere they desired.

* * *

George and Leila were just about to leave the school when Leila got that all too familiar chill.

"Do you feel that?" she asked George, goose bumps appearing on her arms.

"What?" George asked, curious.

"That unmistakable feeling that something bad is going to happen," Leila said, shivering.

Suddenly, the wind started to blow. Trees gently swayed and a few leaves started to fall off and blow away. The clouds overhead became darker, and the sun was soon covered by thick dark clouds.

"Feel it now?" Leila asked George sarcastically.

The wind began to whistle, and Leila could swear it sounded like a low moan…one that was getting louder.

She suddenly turned with catlike reflexes, her gray and green eyes glittering, looking at the sky. She saw three gray transparent things rushing towards them…

"Look out!" Leila screamed, and she and George jumped to the ground as the specters swooped and missed.

"That's her! I can feel it!" Felicia said proudly, and the other two nodded.

"Friends of yours?" Leila asked with panic in her voice. George shook his head. "They must be minions of Atticus!"

They ghosts swooped again, and this time they went low enough to grab Leila. With unnatural strength the three lifted her into the air, Leila screaming and flailing in vain.

"Let her go!" George yelled, unsure of what to do. If he was a ghost, he could go up there and fight them…

"No! And we know your secret…Georgie!" Silas said, and they went higher into the sky. They lifted Leila through the clouds, until she could no longer see the ground below. There wasn't much oxygen up here, and the ghosts knew it.

They were going to suffocate her.

George screamed in frustration, and continued to curse at the ghosts, even though they couldn't hear him.

Leila was getting dizzy…the ghosts were flying into space at an amazing speed…her oxygen was running out…

"Here's your stop! Have a nice fall!" Emmet said cheerfully as the ghosts reached the last layer of atmosphere. They all let go of her at the same time.

The girl fell to earth, half unconscious. She was picking up speed; if she didn't die from the lack of air, the fall would surely kill her.

Leila dreamily opened her eyes. What was going on? Where was she? What was all that blue?...

Clouds rushed by her, and George could now see her as a speck in the sky. His eyes widened in horror, and he was rooted to the spot.

"Leila!" he rasped, his throat dry.

Meanwhile, the girl was still very confused. Was she falling? Why did she have such a big headache?

And why was the sky turning green?...

* * *

The three ghosts, still at the border between earth and space, started to cackle and give each other hi-fives. With this girl out of the way, they could easily take over the mansion now…

They started to fly back to the mansion, when Silas stopped them. He was staring down through the sky at something.

"What's that?" he asked his companions, and the other two looked.

"Don't know," Emmet said.

"Beats me," Felicia said.

"It looks like a big green comet," Silas said, "Ever seen one 'o those?"

"Can't say I have," Emmet said.

"I sure as hell haven't," Felicia said.

"Shall we go investigate?" Silas said.

"Let's," Emmet said.

"Should be fun," Felicia said.

And with that, the dim-witted trio flew down to see just what was happening.

* * *

In an instant, Leila knew what was going on. At first she had been dizzy, but now she felt alert and worried.

Okay, worried might be an understatement.

"OH MY GOOOOOOOOOOOD!" Leila screamed as she fell, completely oblivious to the green glow that was slowly surrounding her.

The ground was rushing towards her…she could see George coming closer and closer…

And then…

She stopped.

A mere two feet away from the grass. She was still facing the ground, and saw George staring at her in amazement.

The girl was hovering.

"Bloody hell," gasped George, backing up.

Leila awkwardly twisted herself upright, and saw that she was indeed floating. And there was an eerie green glow surrounding her.

Then, as quickly as it had appeared, it vanished. Leila fell to the ground, unharmed, and sat there shaking.

"Oh. My. God. Ohmygodohmygodohmygod."

George rushed to her side, and put a reassuring arm around her.

"It's okay…you're safe," he said to the terrified teen.

But their troubles weren't over yet.

The three evil ghosts had seen this too, and they were just as shocked as George and Leila.

"How'd she do that?!" Silas barked angrily.

"I KNEW there were aliens among us!" Emmet cheered.

"She's a better witch than ME!" Felicia said, her mouth agape.

Leila and George heard these loud ghosts, and turned to them. Leila glared at them angrily.

"Just leave us alone! Go away!" She yelled at them.

As soon as the words were out of her mouth, a portal similar to the one they had come from appeared below them. A large skeletal hand reached out of it and grabbed all three ghosts at once. With a yelp, they were sucked back into the Underworld.

Leila blinked.

"Well…that was unexpected," George quipped.

"I think," Leila said slowly, "That it's time to go to the mansion."


	13. Straight to Hades

Exhaling slowly, Leila flexed her fingers. "Let's go kick some Atticus a--"

"Do you really think you're ready?" George interrupted, looking worried.

She turned to him, her eyes blazing with a new fierceness. "Yeah. At least, I think so." She stared down at her clenched fist. "It's weird." Her hand began to glow with a bright green light. "I feel...energized, like I could do anything." With a grim look of determination, she said, "Let's go. I have a feeling we don't have much time left."

As they got into Paul's car, George said with a smile, "You're taking this all rather well."

Leila buckled her seat belt and took the Order of Light's journal out of her back pack and skimmed the pages for anything that might be of help. "Inside," she confessed, "I'm screaming."

* * *

Atticus listened. His gnarly, long fingers tapped the table impatiently as he waited.

For screams? Ghosts begging for mercy? Sobbing?

He didn't know exactly, but whatever it was, he wasn't hearing it. "Those bumbling fools," the warlock muttered. "Never trust a ghost to do a wizard's job." He picked up Madame Leota. "You're coming with me."

The medium glared, focusing as much energy as she could and--

Thorn screamed in shock and dropped the psychic. Green fire encased her spherical prison and she floated up to be eye level with him. "I will not tolerate your harassment any longer, Atticus!" A green beam of energy soared from the crystal ball and smacked him square in the chest, sending him flying out of the room. She sailed after him, following him into the ballroom.

A simultaneous gasp echoed through the chamber. Everything, the dancing, playing, and the music, ceased. The ghosts stared at the wicked man, who was lying on his back. The hovering head was right above his face. "Have you forgotten that it was I who sent you down to Hell, you pathetic excuse of a man?" He tried to get up, but she psychically smacked him. "I may have been weak before, I admit, but this ends NOW!"

A whirlwind, a fiece gale that made even the coats of the ghosts flap on the breeze, blew. Ezra and Phineas held down their hats. Paul held Gus's metal ball tightly as the little spirit floated. "It's just like flying a kite," the pseudo master joked, making the half-brothers groan.

In the very center of the room, a tiny bright point of light began to grow. After a few seconds, it expanded into a swirling red vortex. Silver eyes wide with terror, Atticus screamed, "I'm not going back!" Clawing at the flat floor was pointless as he was dragged towards the portal. Right before he would have been sucked in, he reached out and grabbed the first thing he could get his bony claws on.

Little Leota.

"MOM!" she screamed, barely heard over her mother's own cries.

"I won't go back alone," Thorn snarled.

"Put her down!" screamed Paul, dropping Gus. After a running start, he jumped up and grabbed the little girl, but couldn't free her from Atticus's grasp.

"Finally grown a spine, George?" cackled Atticus.

"Oh, and you consider snatching a kid to be brave?" Paul shot back. The vortex was getting closer. Like a whirlpool, it began to pull them in. Leota began mouthing a chant, but it seemed as if she had truly outdone herself this time. She couldn't so easily undo this magic.

Little Leota did the only thing she could think of: She kicked Atticus in the shin. With a yelp, he let her go right as he was pulled into the Hellish entrance. Paul grabbed her and tried to float away, but at the last seond, Thorn grabbed his ankle. Madame Leota shot a stream of magic at him, but it missed and the three were whisked away to the Underworld.  
With a crackle, the entryway was sealed and the wind stopped.

"NO!" Madame Leota screamed. Sinking down to the floor, she sobbed. The others stared at her with looks of pity and fear. She wanted to demand why they didn't help, why they just stood there. But she didn't. It wouldn't have done any good. Another portal couldn't be opened, not so soon. She felt too tired and weak. She would just have to wait for the girl to get there. And Paul...The poor boy had no idea what he was getting himself into. He was a brave soul, she'd give him that.

* * *

It was cold. It was colder than his science class, colder than a December morning. Paul shivered. And gray. Everything was gray and lifeless. The closest thing he could compare the Underworld to was a big cave, filled with dampness and shadows. It wasn't a blazing inferno like he thought it would be. That might have been pleasant. He wrapped his ghostly arms around himself, his teeth chattering. He couldn't remember feeling anything before, like the chills in the mansion, but now he was freezing.

A little hand touched his shoulder. He looked up. "Are you okay?" asked Little Leota. A howling wind whipped her hair over her pale face.

She nodded. "S-so c-cold!"

"Ha!" Atticus barked. "Get used to it! I've been here for nearly a century. If those Order of Light freaks think I'm going back to my cell, they've got another thing coming." Two figures suddenly stepped up behind him: a thin, blonde woman, and a brown haired man about her own age. They were in their early thirties. For some reason, something about them seemed oddly familiar to Paul.

"Welcome back Atticus," the woman smirked. "Did you enjoy your little vacation?"

"Mrs. Toombs," he snarled, "are you going to try to put me back in my little pen?"

"Toombs?" Paul whispered. That's why she seemed so familiar! She must be some ancestor of Leila's.

The woman turned her pale, heart-shaped face towards him, as if she had not realized he was there. Her sharp glare turned to a look of pity. "George, I'm so sorry for what happened. We had never meant for things to turn out the way they did." Looking into his eyes, her expression changed to one of brief confusion, and then to mild amusement. The man studied him with a cynical arch of an eyebrow.

_They know!_ Paul thought. _They know I'm not George!_

"Auntie Alea!" Little Leota cried happily. She ran to the woman and hugged her tightly. "I missed you!"

"I missed you, too," murmured Alea, hugging her back.

The man watched the girl with indifference laced with contempt. "I take it he brought you two here?" he asked.

Little Leota nodded. "Can't get anything past you, Uriah."

"This is all very touching," snapped Atticus, "but I have a world to conquer. So, if you'll excuse me--" Magic burned in his fist, but before her could do anything, Alea and Uriah raised their hands, palms out, and streams of magic, burning as brightly as the sun, coiled around him and lifted him into the air.

"Ready, dear?" asked Uriah. Alea grinned back at him and nodded. As one they pushed him into a little cave. He slammed against a rock wall. Beams of crackling energy formed parallel, prison-like bars across the mouth of the cavern a split second before he would have run out.

Looking a little peaked, Alea turned to Paul. "Now, who are you? I take it this was my sister's doings."

Paul shot a glance at the furious Atticus and then began to regale his tale to Alea and Uriah. "My name's Paul. Paul Yale. Apparently your sister needed my best friend to go to the mansion and save it or something. So, she sent George to possess me so he could tell my friend Leila, and I got swapped with him."

"Well," said Uriah, "this is the first time I've ever heard of a human possessing a ghost." There was a hint of a smile on his lips.

From his cell, Atticus screamed in frustration. "She was stalling! That witch was just buying time!" He punched a wall and bits of gravel rained down. "I should have known!" To his captors he turned a pleading stare. "Tell me," he beseeched, "where is the sword hidden?"

"Somewhere where you'll never find it, you fiend!" Uriah cried. Turning back to Alea, he asked in a hushed tone, "where is it hidden?"

Alea shrugged. "It was originally in the attic, with the rest of the objects George's father had collected. But Leota was supposed to move it somewhere else. But, I don't know if she got the chance to before--" Tears filled her eyes. "Who knows? During the battle, it could have accidently been sent anywhere, be it a new geographic location or a different time period."

"What does it do, anyway?" asked Paul. "I mean, I know a sword's a weapon, but other than that..." he trailed off.

"It can be used by only a chosen few," explained Uriah in a mystical voice. "Those that could destroy the evil, and the evil itself. The power of whomever wields it will increase a hundred fold."

"So, it's only for wizards and the like?"

Alea shook her head. "It's a rarity, but a few... normal mortals, I suppose you could say, have been chosen as the keeper of the blade. Master Gracey's father was one. He was murdered by his wife before it could be of any use to him. And the next--"

"Would be George," Paul finished. "So, why would Leila be brought into the picture?" Hastily, he added, "She's a descendant of yours, by the way. Leila Toombs."

"It needs a magic jumpstart," Alea explained simply. "So it can vanquish the evil and open a portal to send it back."

Paul chuckled nervously. "I don't think Leila is magical. I mean, she can't even do that trick where it looks like your thumb comes apart."

Little Leota tuned out the rest of the conversation and cautiously approached Atticus. He almost didn't seem so frightening as he glowered behind those bars. She silently studied him. The intent stare causing him the feel unnerved, Thorn snapped, "What?"

"Why?" she asked quietly.

"Why what?"

"Why do you hate me so much?"

It was asked so matter-of-factly, so simply. There were no traces of tears, and it was not a choked whisper drowned out by sobs. Not a hint of pain or anger was in that little voice. Of course, she had given up the happy thought that maybe they could be a family. There was no love in that cold, shallow creature, she knew. But she just wanted to know what it was she had done wrong exactly.

"If it hadn't been for you, your mother never would have joined the Order of Light. She never would have left me. Because of you, you wretched child, Leota decided I wasn't good enough for her, decided that you shouldn't be brought up in the darkness that we shared!" He was so angry that he spit. Leota jumped out of the way. For a moment, he just stood there, the memories rushing through his mind like a stampeding herd of wildbeests.

Fearfully, she watched him. She was afraid of him again, even though she was dead and he was safely behind the powerful sorcery her aunt and uncle had conjured up. Green eyes glued to his hand, she waited for him to raise a fist, to hit her as he had done so many times before. She took another step back, but he did not move or flinch.

Suddenly, she saw a tiny flash of light, as if off glass. Looking up at the ceiling of the cave, she saw it again. It was a brief gleam.

"What?" demanded Atticus.

"Nothing," Little Leota quickly fibbed.

"You're a terrible liar, girl." Inspecting the rock above him, he noticed that there was a shape definitely not found naturally in a rock formation. Something long and pointed, with a "T" shaped handle, had been embedded into the ceiling. A tiny bit of the silver body shined. He grinned wickedly. How could he not have noticed it before? The tip of his pointer finger began to glow red, as if it were a hot poker. He traced the outline of the shape with his finger, melting the rock.

A sword clattered to the ground. Its handle was silver and decorated with thin gold woven into intricate Celtic knots. In the center of the largest knot, in the center of the handle, was a diamond. It had been created nearly one thousand years ago, by the first two members of the Order of Light. It was made using the five elements. Forged in fire, the sword was then cooled in a stream, and then dried in the crisp, winter air. The metal it was made with, along with the gold and silver, constituted as the fourth component. The sparkling diamond was the fifth, representing earth.

Picking it up, Atticus felt a tremor run through him, a surge of power like he had never experienced before. A shriek escaped Little Leota's lips as he sliced through the bars. The others turned. A coldness swept through Paul as the warlock laughed triumphantly. Alea and Uriah shot fearful glances at each other, but strode forward to confront Thorn. It was no use, Paul knew. They were doomed.


	14. Is This Room Actually Stretching?

For the first time, Paul saw Atticus smile. Not just a smirk, a whole smile…and a derranged one at that.

He raised the sword over his head, and the large diamond on the handle turned black. The sword seemed to be burning with an ebony fire, and it spread to Atticus. His features became more disfigured, his skin paler, and his eyes became the color of jet stones, as dark as an abyss.

"FINALLY!" He bellowed, for the whole underworld to hear, "I HAVE FOUND IT!"

Paul and Little Leota covered their ears, but Alea and Uriah were just staring at him in horror, paralyzed on the spot.

They had failed to keep the sword safe…and now all hell would break loose.

Atticus lowered the sword and turned to Alea and Uriah. He had a sick grin on his face, and a strong wind started to blow as he slowly walked towards them.

"Fools. You'll be the first to go. After all of this tortue you've made me endure, I will finally have revenge!"

Without a second thought, he plunged the sword through Uriah's chest. Paul gasped in shock as he saw it go straight through the man.

Uriah's mouth opened in pain, and his eyes glazed over. As soon as Atticus removed the sword, his skin and muscles dissolved, leaving only a skeleton standing in front of Atticus. A few seconds later, the bones turned to dust and fell lifelessly to the ground.

"NO!" Alea screamed. She glared at Atticus and tried to encase him in another prison, but he merely sliced through it with the sword.

"You imbecile! The sword gives me power over the dead – which you are. There's no way you can defeat me." With that said, he stabbed Alea. She dissolved into dust, just as Uriah had.

He grinned evilly, and turned to Paul and Little Leota.

"So…" he said, voice dripping with malice, "You weren't the real George at all…just some kid. I can't believe I didn't realize that."

Paul and Little Leota nervously backed away, but there was nowhere to go.

"You may be alive in your normal state, but right now, you're inhabiting a ghost's body. And you know what that means?"

Atticus aimed the sword at the two, and a purple beam of light shot out of it, heading straight for them.

"I own you."

* * *

George and Leila arrived at the mansion. However, those feelings of uneasiness and fear were now gone…and Leila felt differently about the mansion.

She wanted to go inside, to explore. It was like she was drawn to it.

The two got out of the car, and headed to the front door. Leila tried the knob, and found it was locked.

"You lock it?" she asked him.

"Well…most of the time we just walk through the walls," George explained, "But don't worry, I've got a spare around here somewhere."

He looked around and then down at their feet. Leila realized that they were standing on an old, yellowed rug…probably a former Welcome mat. George lifted it up, and underneath was an old black key, covered in rust.

"There we go," George said cheerily as he unlocked the front door with a loud click. He opened the large door, and the two were hit with a blast of cold air. They stepped in to what appeared to be a sitting room, and closed the door. The room was dark, except for a few candles lighting the foyer.

"Nice place," Leila said, admiring the old yet beautiful detail of the mansion.

"We try," George replied with a smile, and led Leila over to the stretching room entrance.

"This is the only way…for humans, anyways…to get to the next part of the house. I hope you don't get too scared," George said, and opened the secret room.

"Hey. After driving with you, nothing can scare me," Leila said with a smile.

The same effect that Paul had seen earlier was now being shown to Leila, but while Paul had stood there watching nervously, Leila was making sarcastic retorts about George's narration.

Just as the room reached it's maximum limit, the lights went out and the skeleton appeared again. Leila felt a lump in her throat, but stayed calm as she looked at the remnants of George's body.

The room became pitch black again, and Leila and George stood there in the darkness.

After a few minutes, Leila heard George beside her.

"Hmm."

"Hmm?"

"Well…the lights were supposed to come on by now…the room shouldn't still be dark," George said, confused.

"Oh George, when are you going to learn? Death is full of surprises…you can't expect anything," said a woman's voice. George and Leila looked at each other, confused, and tried to find the new voice that had entered the room.

"Up here, dear," the voice said helpfully. All of a sudden, one of the paintings – the one of the woman on the tightrope – became illuminated by a purple glow. Here eyes were bright and staring down at Leila and George.

"So glad to see you've brought the girl! It's about time someone came here to set things straight!" the painting said, her two dimensional mouth curving into a smile.

George looked completely confused.

"What?" Leila hissed to him, "They don't usually talk?"

"We don't usually have much to talk about!" a gruff voice replied to Leila's question. Another painting was now revealed by the eerie light – the man on the dynamite keg.

"Nobody comes and visits us anymore," the man said dolefully, completely unaware that the spark had now started slowly moving towards the keg in the painting. Leila turned to the tightrope girl and realized that she was sinking lower and lower towards the alligator's jaws.

"I know!" the girl replied with a sigh, "Except for those foolish mortals who think that they're going to solve the mysteries of the mansion…and they usually aren't very good conversationalists."

"It's pathetic, that's what it is," a new voice said. The woman sitting on the grave suddenly sprang to life, and joined the conversation. "You'd think that with 999 ghosts here, at least one would be willing to come visit us."

Leila noticed that the eyes on the bust of the man the old woman was sitting on had started to move, but the woman seemed to not notice.

"I blame the construction crews!" Three voices called out in unison. George and Leila whirled around and saw that the final painting, the three men in quicksand, had come to life as well. The whole room was now bathed in the purple light.

"It's their fault no ghosts come visit us! They just walk through the walls, and completely ignore this room!" they all said at once, but soon, the lowest man's mouth had been engulfed by quicksand and could no longer speak. The other two seemed oblivious to his predicament.

"How is that construction's fault?" The tightrope girl asked, the aligator below her licking its lips.

"They…er…made the walls too thin!" The two remaining sinking men shot back.

"Now now, let's not bicker and argue," the old woman said calmly. The axe jammed in the bust's head was slowly removing and positioning itself behind the unaware woman's head.

"Er, George…I think this room is going to get very messy in a minute…" Leila whispered worriedly to him.

"Well at least things have gotten shaken up around here! Atticus coming back and all," the man on the keg said.

"Oh yes! And did you hear about what happened this afternoon?" the tightrope girl said excitedly.

"What?" Asked the top man in the quicksand picture – he was now the only one above the sand.

"George and Little Leota were pulled into the Underworld with him!" The old woman said with big eyes, "Can you believe that?!"

George gasped.

"Wow! Who's going to take over the tour?" The dynamite man asked.

"George..." Leila said, looking at the paintings. Each person in them was very close to their demise.

"Y-yes?" George stammered, still in confusion about the news he just heard.

"I think we might want to shut our eyes now."

But there was no need; the lights suddenly flickered off, and the two heard a series of sounds.

A high pitched scream, a splash, and large chomping sound; a gurgle and desperate cry for help, something about sand; a sickening crunch from the axe; and last but not least, a large explosion. The room was filled with a burst of light, and George and Leila ducked as bits of splintered frames fell to the ground loudly.

The lights snapped back on, and the door opened; the room was a complete mess, paper and wood everywhere.

"Er…Prudence can clean that up," George said, staring at the mess in the room. He grabbed Leila's wrist and the two left the bizzare stretching room.

* * *

On a whirlwind tour through the house, George took Leila to Leota's room. She was at first surprised to see them, but her shock was soon replaced by amusement.

"Oh, George…" she said with a chuckle, "I could not have picked a better body for you."

"Ha. Ha ha. Very funny," George said sarcastically, "Now what's this about me going to the Underworld?"

Leota's smile vanished.

"Oh…you heard about that?"

"Yes, I heard about that. What happened?"

Leota reaccounted all that had happened while he was away, and when she finished, Leila was staring at the floor in confusion.

"So…Paul's in the Underworld now? Can't you get him back?" She asked quietly.

"I don't know if I can…but you might be able to," Leota said.

"How?" Leila asked hopefully. Maybe her newfound powers could do something…

Leota was about to respond when she was suddenly interrupted by a large vortex suddenly appearing in the middle of the room. A wind started to pick up, and Leota started to blow away because of its strength. George grabbed ahold of her, and the three watched as a figure emerged from the portal…

It was Atticus.

The three gasped in unison – Leota and George because of the change in his appearance, Leila because she had never seen something so atrocious. He slowly climbed out of the portal, and stood before them.

"Oh, Leota…look what I found!" he said in a mocking voice, and dramatically pulled out the sword.

Leota screamed, and spooked George, who dropped her.

Leila made a dive for the large crystal ball and caught it just in time. Leota didn't even notice she had been dropped, because she was focusing on the long gleaming weapon Atticus now had.

"That's right. You've failed. Your sister and her husband are banished forever. And, I've started my own little army! Take a look at my first troops!"

He put the sword under his arm and held out his palms. Two white spheres appeared in his hands, and floated to the ground in front of him. They started to get bigger, take shape…the glow disappeared, and George and Leota gasped again.

It was Little Leota, and Paul in George's "body" – but they looked like they were zombies instead of ghosts. Their skin was a dull gray, their eyes were hollow and lifeless, and it seemed as though they were just shadows of their former selves.

"Paul!" Leila gasped, although she was pretty sure he couldn't hear her. The zombefied ghosts started to walk slowly towards George, Leota and Leila, and started towards the door.

"There's nowhere to run! I have control over the dead now! All 999 of them!" He swung the sword around majestically and rays of bloodred light filled the room and spread throughout the mansion. One by one, the ghosts became mindless drones. Their bodies, buried in the graveyard, rose out of their graves and began to take a life of their own. Everywhere the three tried to go was blocked off by ghosts and skeletons.

* * *

"This is insane!" Leila screamed at George and Leota, who had currently taken refuge in the stretching room. The ghosts and skeletons were pounding on both entrances, trying to find the way in.

"How can we beat them? This is like, 1,998 to 3!" Leila said, panicking.

"Well, not _exactly_," Leota grumbled, but nobody really heard her.

Fortunately, the stretching portraits could not add any comments to their predicament.

"Haven't you received your powers yet?" Leota asked Leila, annoyed, like that was the obvious answer to everything.

"What? Uh…well, I hovered earlier today," Leila said, recalling the events of the day.

"That's a start," Leota said quickly, as the pounding was getting louder, "Anything else?"

"Well, sometimes I get these…like…feelings about stuff, like auras I guess?"

"Okay…have you tried any incantations?"

"What??"

"Spells! Have you cast any spells yet!"

"No…"

"Well, there's no time like the present. Get rhyming, girl!" Leota said, her eyes wide.

"Uh…" Leila stammered. She had never been good at poetry…

Suddenly there was a loud crunching sound from above, and the three hostages looked up.

George's corpse had come to life, broken off the noose, and was breaking through the ceiling from the attic to get them. Leila screamed as she saw the skeletal hand punch through the brick ceiling with ease.

Leila tried to rhyme the best she could with what she had.

_"I'm really scared, and so are they, _

_Banish the evil spell…away!" _

As soon as Leila finished the spell, the skeleton suddenly seized up, and then became lifeless, its arm still sticking through the ceiling.

"It worked!" Leila said in disbelief.

"Of course it did! Now try something else! These ghosts are gonna get in here soon!" Leota said frantically, and George nodded in agreement.

Leila tried another spell, with the help of Leota.

_"Release these tortured skeletons _

_Return them to their rest _

_So that their spirits may find peace _

_From the presence of this unwelcomed guest." _

The knocking suddenly stopped.

Leila heard the gasps and murmers of the confused ghosts, and heard their skeletons walking back to their resting places in the graveyard.

"I think we're okay," Leila said, leaning against a wall in relief. George, however, still had a worried look on his face.

"Not yet. We still have to deal with Atticus…and get that sword."

Leila remembered and nodded with confidence. This shouldn't be too hard…


	15. Confrontations

Cautiously, George pushed open the sliding door that lead out into the hallway. Some confused ghosts and corpses were still murmuring and staggering away.

"Hey, Phinny," said Ezra, grabbing his skeleton, "I'm beside myself with terror. Get it? Beside myself!"

Leila had not even taken two steps out of the room when a transparent man wrapped his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "Leila!"

Smiling, she looked up at the ghost's face. Unfitting of the aristocratic master, Paul was wearing a lopsided grin. There were just some things you could not change no matter what form a person took. George Gracey, she had to admit, was handsome, but those striking blue eyes were unnerving. She wondered if Paul was having as tough of a time as George.

"How have you been?" she asked him.

"Jeezum crow, where to start! This Gracey guy is, like, the almighty master of this place so everyone is listening to me for once. It's awesome! And my voice isn't cracking! I don't have braces! I can't eat anything, but that's not the point." He titled his head to one side, concerned. "Are you all right? I didn't hurt you, did I? I don't remember what happened."

"We're fine." Leila looked behind her at George. "This is George."

"Hi," Paul greeted unsurely.

George looked at him, frowning.

"What?" demanded Paul.

"You're slouching," George said in a critical tone.

Paul consciously straightened up. "Yeah, well, you grew peach fuzz all over my chin!"

"Boys!" Madame Leota rolled between the two. "There are more important matters at hand."

"Yes, Leota," they both sighed, rolling their eyes heavenward.

"But Mom," whispered Little Leota, "what are we going to do?"

"The only thing we can do--" began Leota, but Leila cut in, "Hit him hard and fast and don't pull any punches!" She pushed up her sleeves. "Let's get this sucker." She strode out, and then stopped. She turned and looked at the others, who seemed to be in shock.

"Well, there's no point in standing around moping, is there? Come on! I want to get this finished in time to watch the Simpsons Halloween Special."

Shrugging, George trailed after her, holding Leota. Little Leota was right on his heels. Paul sprinted two inches off of the floor to catch up with Leila. Gliding just a little ahead of her, he turned to face her so that he was floating backwards. "You know," the boy in the ghost form said, "I always knew there was something a little odd about you, Leila."

"Gee, thanks."

"It's why I always hung out with you. Remember when I met you? In preschool? All those kids kept calling you a freak because of your eyes and they pushed you in a puddle and you started crying?"

Leila nodded, rolling her eyes. It was not exactly the proudest moment in her life. "Yeah. And you were the only one who helped me up. Then that kid pushed us both down." She laughed. "And then I flung mud at you?"

Paul laughed too. "Yeah, that bully couldn't figure out why we weren't crying and we spent the entire recess playing in the puddle, and our moms--"

"They were so mad! Mom put those garbage bags over the backseat of her minivan and you rode home with me."

"And we took a bath together, and my mom took all those pictures!"

"Does she still have those?" Leila seemed completely oblivious to others around them as they looked on, unsure what to make of the trip down memory lane.

"Yeah! She shows them to everybody, too. It's so embarrassing! You know," Paul added thoughtfully, "you were kinda cute."

"Really?"

"Yeah...what happened?"

Leila tried to shove him and her hand went through him. George stepped up between the giggling teens. "Might I ask," he demanded, "where exactly are we going?"

Leila paused. She had not a clue. Actually, the new witch--as she now thought of herself--had just followed this instinct she had. It had led her to a set of grand double doors. Atticus's voice could be heard on the other side. Leila curled and uncurled her fists as the tips of her fingers tingled. Before he hand could grasp the doorknob, the door flew open, revealing a chaotic ballroom. Demonic little wraiths flew out of the organ pipes, snarling, biting, and chasing ghosts. The table had tipped over and the plates were broken and scattered across the floor.

"Ah," greeted Atticus upon sight of the heroes. He held the sword in his right hand and gripped the ghostly bride by her throat with the left. "I've been expecting you." Sophia clawed at his fingers. She disappeared and reappeared, hoping that materializing would free herself. "Such a shame her beauty had to go to waste. I was just offering her life in exchange for eternity with me. The little brat just doesn't seem to quite grasp"--he tightened his hold--"the situation. This time around, she can't die; but she can be exterminated." He brandished the blade.

"George..." she rasped.

"Sophia!" Paul and George cried at once. They looked at each other; George at Paul with confusion and Paul at George with guilt. "How do you know her?" George ask icily.

Somewhere in the back of the room, Ezra, Phineas, and Gus chanted, "Jerry! Jerry! Jerry!"

"Shut up!" Leila snapped at them.

Atticus laughed. "Poor little Sophia, you seem so confused. Let's roll the clip, shall we?" With a nod of his head Madame Leota floated up towards him, despite her protests.

Little Leota jumped up, wrapping her arms around the crystal ball. "Put momma down!" Against Leota's will, her face faded and was replaced with the image of Paul and George switching bodies. A hushed silence fell over everyone in the ballroom. Many ghosts had followed Leila, wanting to see Atticus fall at the hands of the teenage girl. Quite an audience had gathered. They looked from the mortal boy who was their true Master Gracey to the imposter.

"And if that wasn't juicy enough..." taunted Atticus. Once again, the scene swirled and changed. There, for everyone to see, was Sophia and Paul kissing in the attic.

"Geeze, kid," said Ezra, "we leave you alone for ten minutes and you lip-lock with the Master's former bride to be?"

"You," snarled Leila, turning to the trio, "I don't know who the hell you guys are, but no more commentary!"

"You..." began George, glaring with hatred at his former body.

"It's not like it seems," Paul began pitifully.

Laughing, Atticus dropped Sophia and Leota to the floor. Once again, Leila made a dive and grab for Leota. The mystic's daughter floated down safely.

Both Paul and George raced to the ethereal fiancée to help her. Shoving them both away, she pushed herself up. Nostrils flared, she turned first to George. "You! I don't know why you suddenly care! It's not like you so much as ever visit me. Not one word, not one kind word after all these years!" Tears filling her gray eyes, she turned to Paul. "Why didn't you say anything?"

He shrugged helplessly. "I didn't want to embarrass you."

Sobs filling her throat, she screamed, "It's a little late for that, don't you think?"

"I just love being petty," gushed Atticus. "But enough of this chatter. It's time to summon forth--" Leila jumped on his back. She wrapped her arms around his neck in an attempt to strangle him. Quickly, he bent down, flinging her to the floor. "Do you think you can defeat me that easily?" He brought the tip of the sword right against her throat. "I can't be beaten by such crude--" CLUNK!

The warlock collapsed and the weapon slid across the floor. Standing behind the crumpled villain was Gus, beaming proudly and swinging his chain.

"Thanks," breathed Leila.

"Don't mention it," the little man grinned, showing off a mouthful of discolored teeth.

"Grab the sword!" yelled Leota.

Leila scrambled up, her sneakers squeaking on the wood floor. Upon touching the handle, she shrieked. "It stung me!"

"Exorcise the evil out, girl! So long as his magic flows through it, no good can touch it. Quick! He's stirring!"

As fast as she could, Leila spouted off a spell.

_"Powers of darkness, _

_Be gone and dispell. _

_Remove from this weapon _

_The powers of hell."_

Slowly, the steel blade rose into the air. The diamond became a blazing white. Good magic traveled downwards, pushing out the darkness, making the blade gleam brilliantly. The others watched, enthralled.

Phineas and Ezra hummed dramatically.

Gracefully, the sword began to descend. It landed, softly in Leila's arms. Then she fell under the weight. "Lil' help?" She dragged it over to the crystal ball, the tip of the blade painfully scuffing the floor.

"Only one person can wield the sword for the side of good," recited Leota.

From the dark mound came a moan as Atticus began to awaken. He sat up, growling. "No one will take my power from me! No one!"

Leota fired off a ball of magic at him, knocking him back. "George, get your scrawny butt here now!"

"Me?" he asked nervously. But he could feel an odd sensation, as if something inside him was stirring. The sword was calling to him. He had to have it! He had to stop this. It was his destiny.

He ran towards Leila. _George,_ he thought, _you've been a coward your whole life--and afterlife. It's time you finally set things right!_ He leapt, jumping onto the back of the crouched Atticus, and then springing down onto the floor. He slid over to the girl, stopping right next to her.

"You could have just gone around him, you know," Leila said as he took the sword from her.

Expertly, and just a touch smugly, he stood poised, ready for battle. "Yeah, but that just looked so much cooler."

"Fools!" snarled the dark wizard. "Did you think it would be that easy?" Purple flame burst around him, surrounding his body, obscuring him from view.

Leila's fists suddenly glowed with an intense green light. She was a member of the Order of Light now, whether she wanted to be or not. It was her job to protect the one chosen to fight. She looked at George. He was wearing a cocky smirk, but she knew he felt as unsure as she did.

Leota rolled next to Leila's feet and her daughter stood beside her. The young witch felt Paul put a ghostly hand on her shoulder. There was a general shift in the room as the ghosts gathered nervously behind her.

The force of evil magic knocked them back as it rushed through the room. Leila instinctively put her arm over her eyes as the room was bathed in an intense light.

"Look at it this way," said Phineas. "At least we can't die."

"I'm still alive!" cried Leila.

"Oh, right. Forgot about that. Good luck, kid."

Leila lowered her arm and looked up. And up.

"Crimanitley!" cried Paul.

"I don't think I have any crappy rhymes to cover this," the blond muttered.


	16. The Graveyard of Good and Evil

Atticus had grown to twice his size. As if he wasn't big enough, Leila thought.

The enormous man stared down at the scene below him: ballroom dancers fearfully split apart, fleeing for safety and refuge. Other ghosts watched from the balcony, terror in their eyes – for the first time since any of them could remember, they could actually be _hurt_ in this situation. Wind blew around Atticus, in a tornado-like fashion. Leila's and George's hair blew wildly, and they blinked from the strong gale; Paul, Little Leota, and the others were completely unaffected.

"You can't fight him here," Leota said to Leila, "He could cause the whole house to come down on us!"

"But where-" Leila started, but Paul interrupted her.

"The graveyard! That's perfect – plus, it's in crappy shape anyways," He suggested brightly. A sour look appeared on George's face, as if to say 'How dare you insult my beautiful house,' but he headed for the nearest way out.

Unfortunately, Atticus was one step ahead of them.

Just as he reached the closest door, Atticus blocked it with a wall of fire. And pointing his finger at the other doors, he quickly shut off all the exits – to both man and ghost.

Leila was about to lose hope when all of a sudden, she heard a rumbling noise from outside. And a few seconds later, there was a giant CRASH!

A old fashioned, horse-drawn hearse…with no horse…had just crashed through part of the ballroom! The driver suddenly materialized, and Paul recognized him as the British ghost he had met earlier.

"Ello, chaps!" He said, tipping his hat towards Leila, Leota and her daughter, "I heard all the ruckus in here and decided to investigate! Of course…" he added, seeing the damage he had just done, "I didn't expect ground to be so slippery and wet…" A sheepish grin appeared on his face as ghosts began to pour out of the new 'exit' he had made.

"Not a problem at all!" George yelled to the buggy driver as he and the others followed the ghosts.

Atticus, however, was starting to get mad. He crashed through the ballroom wall after them, making an even larger hole, and began to pound through the graveyard, pounding headstones into the ground as he stepped on them like some deranged version of "Whack-A-Mole."

As the ghosts fled to safety (and good vantage points), Leila, Paul, George, Leota and Little Leota headed for a wide open space; they didn't want to cause more damage than necessary. Atticus followed them, and soon they found themselves surrounded by a ring of ghosts, every one of them cheering for Leila and George.

"I think it's time to even the playing field," Atticus snarled, turning his head towards the mansion. His eyes glowed a bright lime green, and seconds after they began to glow, green rays of light shot out of every window of the house, filling the sky with a brilliant green aura.

Leila and the others whirled around, watching in confusion as the lights shone brightly in the sky.

Unbeknownst to them, they weren't the only ones to see it.

* * *

Atticus' magic shot through the house, snaking through a part of the house that Paul hadn't seen – and frankly, Gus, Ezra and Phineas hadn't wanted to show it to him. This was the part of the mansion that most visitors – if they managed to get past the stretching room and library – would turn on heel and run out of the house screaming.

In this area were doors…dozens, if not hundreds of identical doors, no one knowing what the other side looked like – except, of course, those locked in them. Behind these doors were the evil ghosts of the mansion, imprisoned by Leota to protect not only the house but Liberty Square as well. Each of them would shriek nonstop, pound on the doors, and act innocent and pathetic…but as soon as they were unleashed, they would wreak havoc and mayhem as fast as they could.

And this was just what Atticus was going for.

His magic ensnared each snakelike brass doorknob, and a deep 'click' could be heard in the hall as each door opened, one by one. Hideous ghosts, ghouls and banshees escaped from their prisons, flying out of the house and too the graveyard. One zombie that had been imprisoned in a coffin got up and stretched his legs. His withered hands had been prying at that lid for far too long.

With a sinister grin on his face, he led the other evil spirits out to join the battle.

* * *

"Felicia! Silas! Emmet! Here come our reserves now," Atticus said, beaming, as he watched the former prisoners come out on the lawn, "Banish as many ghosts as you can to your former prisons, but leave Leota and her pair of foolish mortals – I want to destroy them myself." With that, he snapped his fingers, and ethereal weapons – swords, bows and arrows, shields – appeared in the evil ghosts' arms. They began to charge at the other ghosts, who were screaming and panicking.

"Calm down!" Leota yelled to them, "Fight back!!" Closing her eyes, she summoned weapons for _them_, and their fear lessened. The opposing forces clashed all around Leota, Atticus, and the others, and Leila was having a hard time blocking out the screams of spirits and souls as others banished them and sent them away.

"Ghost versus ghost," Atticus said proudly, "Isn't it _magnificent_? Pity that they'll probably all do each other in…but of course," he added, eyeing Leota, "All's fair in love and war."

And with that, he suddenly shot a blast of magic right towards Leila. She shrieked and threw her hands up, and a magical barrier appeared. The magic energy ricocheted off, and zapped some fighting ghosts back to the mansion.

"Oops," Leila said, her hands flying to her mouth.

"That was a cheap shot!" Ezra yelled, shaking his fist at Atticus. The gigantic warlock rolled his eyes and flicked his index finger at Ezra, Gus and Phineas. They were knocked back, past the fray, and into a dark crypt. Leila could hear them tumbling down it, swearing and cursing as they rolled into the ground.

* * *

"We're way outnumbered!" Leila cried as more of the allied ghosts got sent back to the house, "There's no way we can win!" The poor girl was wearing down – she had been firing spell after spell in an attempt to stop Atticus and his minions, but all it did was slow him down.

"George, you nitwit!" Leota bellowed over the battle, "Why haven't you used the sword yet!?" George, who had been slashing off evil spirits with it, suddenly realized what he was supposed to be doing with it.

"Oh! Right!" he said sheepishly. George scrambled over towards Atticus and held it out in front of him.

"I hope this works…" the man muttered, and started to charge for the gigantic warlock.


	17. All Within The Family

Ezra, Phineas, and Gus rolled to a stop, solidifying themselves enough to smack into the crypt wall. It was more of a disgusting than eerie place. Mold covered the walls and floor, and even sprinkled the spider webs. It had been the tomb of warriors. Around the stone coffins were suits of armor, complete with weapons. The trio shot grins to one another.

"CHARGE!" cried Ezra, sword raised high as he and his friends ran out to the graveyard. They started clashing with Silas, Emmet and Felicia. Out of the Mansion marched suits of armor from George's collection. Onward, the ghosts pushed, valiantly fending off the ghastly ghouls. Amazingly, it was Paul, who stood in the front line of the battle, kicking and punching.

Meanwhile, a crowd of trick-or-treaters and their parents had gathered by the mansion. The battling ghosts and the giant warlock looked so real! It had to be an elaborate show set up by the city council. They'd been trying to increase tourism for years, after all. Or maybe the nearby arts university was responsible.

Taking a running leap, George raised the sword high, preparing to plunge it into Atticus. It would all be over soon and—

A bright, blinding flash caught him off guard and he nearly dropped the sword. Dots danced in front of his eyes as he tried to get his bearings. This was the only chance Atticus needed. He punched George, sending him flying back.

"GEORGE!" Leila screamed.

"I'm okay," he mumbled with a wave, his face in the dirt. "What was that?" Looking up, he saw a middle aged woman lower her camera.

"Mind posing for another one?" she asked.

Anger boiling in him, he yelled, "You think this is just a show?! A GAME?! Get out of here!"

Around him, people muttered about how great his acting was. Leila frowned. Great, now innocent people were at stake, and they were too stupid to get out of harm's way. But maybe it was a good thing. After all, if the town thought she was some kind of witch, the kids at school would never let her live it down. But the con outweighed the pro.

She turned just in time to see Silas lunge at a little girl. The tot shrieked. Coming to her rescue, Gus lifted his chain and swung the metal ball at him, knocking him away. Before running away, the tyke gave Gus a candy bar from her bag, which he happily accepted and quickly scarfed it, the bits of chocolate raining down through him and onto the ground.

"We're losing too many!" cried Leota.

"Troops are falling back," panted Phineas. Lifting up his helmet's visor, he couldn't help but grin at his authentic sounding war lingo. "A bunch of us have to keep rescuing…civilians."

By now, it was as if a hurricane was blowing through. Furious winds whipped mud, dirt, and even some of the loose gravestones. Practically blind, Leila and George trudged on, having to dig in their heels to stay attached to the earth. Even the spirits, both good and bad, were having trouble moving in their right directions.

Crouched behind a tombstone, George waited for his chance. Atticus had his back to him now, cackling like a mad man. Above them, the sky was a sickly green, the clouds swirling like a whirlpool in a tumultuous sea.

The living people around them were beginning to get uneasy. After being attacked and nearly knocked out, they were starting to think that just maybe this wasn't for their entertainment. As they were trying to run away to safety, one person pushed through the throng.

"LEILA!"

The blond turned to see her mother shouting her name. "No, Mom! Leave!"

Seeing the opportunity, Silas dodged away from Ezra's blade and pounced on Mrs. Toombs.

"MOM!" With one hand thrust in that direction, she hit the ghoul with a stream of green magic, sending him flying. Mrs. Toombs stared at her with shock. "Tell ya later, Mom. Got some business to take care of." Clenching her fists, energy crackled around them. "C'mon, Geoge, let's finish off this sucker."

George looked up from where he had been crouched behind a tombstone, watching Atticus.

"There's spirits surrounding him…and lightning is touching down around him!" he cried, panicked.

"I don't care. We're going in. Hold up the sword." He did as she said, and she aimed a blue beam at it. She really didn't know exactly what she was doing. Magic whispered in her mind, giving her instructions. Deep down, she knew it told her the same things it had whispered to her father and grandparents years ago. The sword now fully "charged" it slowly floated back down and into George's hands.

He stared at her. Something had changed. It was a new maturity, a calmness, an understanding. His stomach knotted in fear, he felt like a coward next to her. If he couldn't go through with this he didn't deserve to so much as stand on the same patch of dirt as her. Gritting his jaw, he clasped the handle tightly and bowed his head to her. He then stood up, a determined expression fixed upon his young face.

Eyes fiercely glaring at the warlock's back, he ran, pumping the legs that had been so hard to get used, as fast as he could. Nothing was going to stop him. No more cowering. He didn't care if Atticus hit him with everything at his disposal. He was going to finish this job. He was going to save his friends, his family, his mansion. Around him, ghosts screamed, weapons clashed, lightning struck. Heart pounding, he raised the sword high. A calming blue light surrounded him. Leila had surrounded him with her magic, guaranteeing his safety. Filled with hope, he jumped and thrust the blade down as Atticus turned, piercing his side.

Blood gushed and poured out, spraying oddly out as it splashed against Leila's force field. Lightning bounced off it. Atticus couldn't get his hands through it. Screaming in pain, he set his sights on the girl. Defeat would not be that easy! NO! After years of waiting, he wasn't going to give in that easy! If he couldn't get George, he'd get the girl.

Her multicolored eyes were glued on George, making sure her magic stayed strong around him. She felt weak now. Her body was trembling. Why wouldn't Atticus just die already--…

A million bolts of electricity ran through her, sending her crashing into a large tomb stone. The back of her head hit hard and everything went dark.

"LEILA!" Mrs. Toombs, George, Leota, and Paul screamed at once. The shield around George flickered out.

"You can't win, boy," Atticus snarled, grabbing George around his throat, and lifting him. With his grip on the handle, George pulled out the blood soaked sword. "A mere flesh wound won't kill me, I'm too powerful." His voice was haggard, but George could see the flesh wound starting to heal itself.

His vision becoming blurry with lack of air, he weakly kept stabbing him in the stomach. With each jab, Atticus flinched, but the wounds closed each time. One cut, he knew, wouldn't heal. But if only he could… With one burst of strength, George brought sword up, and swung down, lopping off the villain's hand at the wrist.

As Atticus shrieked, George fell, gulping air as far as he could. Now, his objective was clear. He sprang back up.

Meanwhile, Leila lay unconscious. Her mother had rushed to her side and now cradled her head in her lap. "Oh, my baby," she murmured as tears fell down her cheeks. Suddenly, she felt a hand touch her shoulder. She turned.

Ashley Toombs smiled back at her, his ghostly form glowing with a golden light unlike those of the other spirits. Lightly, he touched Leila's forehead. Her eyes fluttered open. "…Daddy?"

Gently, he reached down and picked her up. She stared at him in disbelief as her eyes filled with tears. "Dad!" Flinging her arms around him, she hugged him tightly and he embraced her back.

"We're gonna do this together, sweetie," he said, pulling back. "I couldn't stand around and watch you get hurt any longer." Behind him, Leila's grandparents, Rosa and Christopher, appeared. All of the Toombs held hands in a line. Leota floated up beside Leila. Leila's mother sat by the grave, awestruck.

Leila could feel the magic coursing through them, building up. She felt her father let go of her hand, and she followed the others as they raised their hands, palms out, facing Atticus. Their power streaming out and combining into one beam.

Atticus threw fireballs at George with his one hand. The young man had managed to dodge most of them, but not without being a little singed. He kept slashing at Atticus, succeeding in only delivering quick gashes.

The magic hit the fiend in the stomach, making him scream and writhe. His own magic weakening, he began to shrink to his normal size. Falling to his knees, he looked up at George, fear in his eyes. "Please…" he pleaded weakly, his voice cracking as tears fell. He had never cried before.

One final time, George raised the sword above his head.

"Plea--please!"

He brought the weapon down as hard as he could. The headless body of Atticus Thorne slumped to the mud. Numb and shaking, George dropped the sword. His task now complete, he fainted.


	18. The End?

The graveyard was deathly quiet.

Every remaining ghost – good and evil – stopped and looked at the corpse of Atticus Throne, which was now smoking on the ground.

Leila was shivering, and noticed for the first time that George was collapsed on the ground.

"George!" she managed to speak, crawling on the ground over to him. She stared at him and the sword, not noticing the swirls of blue mist coming from the body of Atticus.

Leota and the others, however, DID notice.

The ghost of Atticus slowly took shape, and the spirit opened his eyes. Looking down at his decapitated corpse, his eyes grew wide.

He was one of _them_.

The good ghosts started to close in on Atticus, eyes full of revenge. Leila turned to see Atticus get swarmed by a pile of ghosts, the former warlock screaming in fear.

"There's room for a thousand," Gus cackled, and he, Ezra and Phineas joined in as they pulled Atticus down into the ground.

The last thing she heard from Atticus Thorn was a loud, mournful howl from the earth that she would not soon forget.

Rain began to fall, but Leila didn't even notice – she was now staring at her father. The girl couldn't believe he was here…and that he, as well as the rest of her returned family, had done that.

As she stood up and walked over to her father, he slowly became corporeal. Leila stared at her father for a minute, and, lip quivering, she ran the rest of the way and threw her arms around her dad. The girl burst into tears.

"It's okay honey…it's over. You did a good job. You did VERY good," her father said, stroking her hair as she buried herself in his arms. Sobbing, Leila realized that she was drained of energy, and her legs started to go weak. Ashley helped her to the ground, and the two sat in the rain, nobody saying a word.

Finally, Leota rolled over to Leila and her father.

"I'm so sorry I got you involved in all this," Leota said, "It was all my fault."

Leila suddenly laughed, sniffling and wiping the water away from her face.

"That's okay. Like you could've done anything about it without me?" the girl said with a laugh. Leota rolled her eyes and smiled.

Paul, meanwhile, was coming to a realization.

"So…wait a minute," he said, breaking the moment, "Does this mean I don't have to be a ghost any more?"

Everyone in the graveyard turned to him.

"Yes," Leota said, "It does."

"Oh thank god," Paul said, a silly smile appearing on his face, "I was really starting to miss chili cheese fries."

* * *

In a short while, everyone was gathered in the séance room – Leota, Leila and her mother, Ashley, George, Paul, and Ezra, Gus and Phineas.

"So are you sure this will work?" Paul asked, looking at Leota and Leila. Leila replied with a shrug.

"Well, we won't know until we try!"

Leila and Leota looked at the old weathered spell book and read from its pages.

_The task complete, the chore fulfilled_

_Reverse the spell that we've instilled. _

_Reverse the souls that are askew _

_And return them to their beings true. _

Paul and George suddenly floated up into the air, and a white orb of light appeared between them. It shot out two rays of light through both of them, causing ghost and mortal to start to glow with a bright white light. It sort of reminded Leila of the Beast's transformation in "Beauty and the Beast."

The glow and orb became so intense that Leila had to actually shut her eyes. When she could tell that there was no bright light left in the room, she opened her eyes to see George and Paul slowly floating to the ground. Leila rushed over to her friend's body.

"Paul?" she asked, looking down at him. He suddenly came too, and grinned at Leila.

"I'm a real boy!" Paul said comically, winking at her.

She helped her friend up, and George stood up and dusted off and smoothed out his suit.

"Now, there's one more thing we have to do," Ashley said, approaching his daughter, "Those ghosts are still trapped in their rooms – and some of them have a long overdue appointment in the Underworld."

"Oh no," George suddenly moaned, "Then we won't have 999 'happy haunts' anymore!" Ashley, however, chuckled.

"I'm sure that there are many more lost souls in the world who would LOVE to stay here, Mr. Gracey," Ashley said. A look of realization, then deep thought appeared on George's face.

"Hmm," he muttered, and walked through the wall to his study. Leota called Leila over to the spell book once again, and they read the new spell that Leota had found.

_Strong magic winds come blow through here_

_Rid this mansion of revenge and fear _

_Release good souls from prisons strong _

_And banish evils to where they belong. _

A strong gale suddenly swept through the séance room, whipping Leila's and Paul's hair about. Running out of the séance room, they watched as the doors in the hallways swung open, freeing the mansion's kinder ghosts, cheering and celebrating as they flew down the hallways to their normal haunts.

Some of the ghosts weren't so lucky.

Withered green hands that had suddenly burst through the floor of the mansion suddenly grabbed Silas, Emmet, and Felicia, for one. Yelling and fussing, the ghosts were pulled into the depths of the Underworld, along with any of the evil spirits in the house. Another hand popped up, waved at Paul and Leila politely, then shrank back into the hole. The broken floor fixed itself immediately.

"That was cool," Paul started to say, but was interrupted by the Hitchhiking ghosts tackling him and Leila.

"You did it!" Phineas cheered as Ezra started up a rousing chorus of "Ding Dong, The Witch Is Dead." Gus whirled his giant metal ball around in the air as if it was a party favor, but after a few swings it slipped from his grasp, and the poor ghost unceremoniously flew through the conservatory window. Everyone flinched as they heard a loud _CRASH_ outside.

Leila turned to Paul as Ezra and Phineas floated through the wall to check on Gus.

"Thanks for putting up with all this," she said.

"Aw, it was nothin'…besides, it was kind of fun."

"Fun?" Leila said, "How?"

"Well, I-" Paul started, but stopped. Someone was coming down the hallway behind Leila. And at the sight of her, the boy turned white.

"Uh, do you hear that? I think Leota's calling us!" he said, and pulled her into the séance room, quickly shutting the door behind them.

Paul listened at the door as Sophia passed through the hallway, saying "I swear I just saw him here a minute ago…", and as soon as she was gone, he let out a sigh of relief.

"'Fun', huh?" Leila said, crossing her arms.

"A-heh" Paul managed to get out as Leota and Ashely chuckled.

* * *

"So you have to go back, huh?" Leila asked as she, her mother, Ashley and Paul stood on the front steps of the house.

"Yeah. Someone has to guard all the dark spirits in the world…especially since two the Brotherhood members have been…eliminated. But don't worry – I'm always watching over you." Ashley kissed his daughter and his wife, and then thanked Paul for his help.

The three mortals watched as Ashley walked down the steps of the Haunted Mansion and slowly disappeared under the twinkle of stars.

"Happy Halloween," Leila said to Paul with a grin.

* * *

Almost two months had passed since Atticus had been defeated. Things had certainly changed around Liberty Square. For starters, people started exploring the old Gracey Mansion. George was all too happy to give guided tours to curious mortals. The other ghosts had fun with it as well, delighting in giving good natured scares and meeting the living citizens.

George and Sophia were patching things up. Sometimes, if Leila looked out her window around midnight, she could see the ethereal forms of the couple as they walked down the street, arm in arm.

Leila and George made it a point to visit the ghosts at least every other day after school. The young witch trained with Leota whenever visitors weren't around. Paul did his part by holding up targets and cheering Leila on. He'd only been singed five times and teleported to another planet twice.

Holiday decorations, mainly cardboard cut outs, adorned the walls of the cafeteria. Today was the students' last day before winter break. Most of it had been spent watching taped specials the school library had.

Sipping imitation eggnog, Leila watched Paul as he bit into a round, ornament shaped cookie. A look of disgust washed over his face and his spit out the bite he'd taken into a napkin. Something about him had changed. He was more assertive. He walked with his head back and chest out, no longer slumping his shoulders and staring at his feet. Even the bullies had noticed. They no longer picked on him.

"Cookie's stale," he mumbled.

"Huh?" Leila asked distractedly. She had been staring at his mouth. It was so odd to see him without his festively colored braces. But at least his teeth looked straight and even.

"The cookie's stale." Using a fingernail, he scraped away at the red frosting, revealing old orange frosting underneath. "Ugh! Growdy! They just colored over the old pumpkin cookies!"

"At least the meatloaf is fresh."

"As fresh as last Tuesday's leftovers can be." He put down his treat. In the past couple of months, he'd started to feel differently toward Leila, but he didn't like to think about that. Oh, who was he kidding? Of course he did! Just like how he liked to think about how her hair shone in the sunlight, or how her right eyebrow arched when she knew you were spouting complete B. S. or how electricity seemed to crackle around her when she was mad.

"Paul," she began, making him perk up and sit up straight "I've had a weird feeling lately and I was wondering if you felt the same way."

His heart leapt. "Oh, I'm sure I have!"

"Well that's not good." Before she could explain anything to the befuddled Paul, three very familiar specters materialized at her sides. "WHA'?"

"I'm the ghost of Christmas past!" Ezra intoned.

"Present!" Phineas moaned.

"Future!" Gus crowed.

"All right," Leila rolled her eyes. "What are you jokers doing here?"

Phineas took off his hat and nervously fidgeted with the edges of the brim. "Uh, well..."

"Well what?"

This time Ezra tried to explain. "Leota found a new spell to try out..."

"What kind of spell?" The weird feeling surged up.

CRASH! The cafeteria doors burst open and a hoard of zombies staggered in.

"Have fun!" Ezra waved, and his two friends vanished in a swirl of ghostly smoke.

Grinning at Leila, Paul shouted, "Let's rock!" The girl sprang up, hands glowing green. Thanks to Leota, life was going to be pretty exciting from now on…


End file.
